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AMERICAN PREFACE. 


Tue effect of the perusal of this book, and the 
estimate put upon it by a reader, will depend up- 
on his taking with him a right view of its design. 
That design seems in the mind of the writer to 
have been very definite and very restricted. If 
he should be thought to have intended an answer 
to all the elaborate objections from criticism and 
philosophy recently or renewedly urged against 
faith in the Christian revelation, and, still more, 
if the reader should suppose that the author had 
aimed to remove all the difficulties in the way of 
such a faith, he would equally insure his own 
disappointment, and wrong the writer. The book 
comes forth anonymously, but it is ascribed to 
Mr. Henry Rogers, some of whose very able pa- 
pers in.the Edinburgh Review have been repub- 
lished in two octavo volumes in England, and one 
of whose articles, that on “Reason and Faith,” 
dealt with some of the topics which form the 
subject-matter of this volume. 


v1 AMERICAN PREFACE. 


The author seems to have viewed with a keen- 
ly attentive and anxious mind the generally un- 
settled state of opinion, equally among the liter- 
ary and some of the humbler classes in England, 
concerning the terms and the sanction of a re- 
ligious -faith, especially as the issue bears upon 
the contents and the authority of the Bible. 
That he understands the state of things in which 
he proposes himself as one who has a word to 
utter, will be allowed by all candid judges, what- 
ever criticism they may pass upon the effective- 
ness of his own argument. ‘There is abundant 
evidence in this book of his large intimacy with 
the freshest forms of speculation, as developed by 
the free thought of our age. While he identifies 
these speculations with the recent writers who 
have adopted them, he is not to be understood 
as allowing that these writers have originated 
any novel speculations, or excelled the sceptics 
of former times in acuteness, or plausibility, or 
success in urging their cause. He adopts the 
method of the Platonic dialogue, and exhibits a 
dialectic skill in confounding by objections when 
objections can be made to do service as argu- 
ments. His frank admission that he leaves in- 
surmountable objections and unfathomable mys- . 
teries still involved in the theme, a portion of 
whose range alone he traverses, should secure 
him from the imputation of having attempted too 
much, or of boastfulness for what he considers 
that he has accomplished. 


AMERICAN PREFACE. vii 


The truculent notice of this book in the West- 
minster Review for July is wholly unworthy of 
the reputation and the claims of that journal. 
Probably a careful perusal of the book is an es- 
sential condition for enlightening the mind of 
the writer, and for rectifying his judgment, so far 
as information has power to promote candor. 

The Prospective Review for August, in an arti- 
cle on the work, for the most part commendatory, 
though certainly without any warmth of praise, 
makes the prominent stricture upon it to be, a 
charge against the author of having evaded “ the 
gravest, and in one sense the only serious diffi- 
culty, with which the evidences he supports have 
to contend.” ‘This difficulty is defined to lie in 
the question as to whether our four Gospels are 
essentially and substantially documents from the 
pens of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, actual 
companions and contemporaries of Him whose 
life and lessons are therein recorded. The Re- 
viewer professes to have satisfied his own mind 
by an affirmative conclusion on this point. But- 
regarding the question as the very turning-point, 
the paramount and vital element of the existing 
issue between faith and unbelief, and not finding 
it to be dealt with in this volume, the Reviewer 
considers that it is evaded. It might be urged 
in reply, that this question is not to other minds 
of such paramount importance, and that its af- 
firmative answer would not be conclusive, as it 
would still leave open other questions; such, for 


Viil AMERICAN PREFACE. 


instance, as those which enter into the theories of 
Paulus and other Rationalists, and such as are 
not even excluded from the incidental adjuncts 
of Strauss’s mythical theory. It might also be 
urged, that, allowing the question to be paramount 
in its relation to the whole issue, it is one which 
is not so judiciously dealt with in the discursive- 
ness of dialogues after dinner, as in the solitary 
study, with piles of huge tomes, lexicons, and 
manuscripts that require a most deliberate exam- 
ination. But to leave the merits and the relative 
importance of this question undebated, it might 
have been more generous in ‘the Reviewer to have 
confined his criticisms to a decision upon what 
the author has endeavored to accomplish, instead 
of impugning his judgment in the selection of 
the points on which to employ his pen. How- 
ever desirable it may be that we should have in 
another form what Mr. Norton has presented 
so thoroughly in his work on the Genuineness 
of the Gospels, it is enough to answer to the 
Reviewer in the Prospective, that the writer of 
this volume addressed himself to a different course 
of argument, starting from other divergences of 
opinion, philosophical rather than critical in their 
relations. He certainly was free to select the 
method and the direction of his argument, if he 
candidly represented the answering point of view 
of those to whom he opposed himself. 

Amid many episodes and interludes of fancy 
and narrative, it will be found that the volume 


AMERICAN PREFACE. 1x 


arrays its force of argument against two of the 
assumptions alike of modern and of ancient scep- 
ticism ; namely, that a revelation from God to men 
through the agency of a book is an unreasonable 
tenet of belief; and that it is impossible that a 
miracle should occur, and impossible that its occur- 
rence should be authenticated. There is a vigor- 
ous and logical power displayed in the discussion 
of these two points. The discomfiture of those 
who urge these assumptions does not of course 
convince all scepticism, or substitute faith for it, 
but it is something to discomfit such pleas, and 
to expose the fallacies which confuse the minds 
of their advocates. The matters of debate are 
lofty, and there is no levity in their treatment. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


He who reads this book only superficially will 
at once see that it is not all fiction; and he who 
reads it more than superficially will as easily see 
that it is not all fact. In what proportions it is 
composed of either would probably require a very 
acute critic accurately to determine. As the Edi- 
tor makes no pretensions to such acumen, — as 
he can lay claim to only an imperfect knowledge 
of the principal personage in the volume, and 
never had any personal acquaintance with the sin- 
gular youth, some traits of whose character and 
some glimpses of whose history are here given, — 
he leaves the above question to the decision of 
the reader. At the same time, it is of no conse- 
quence in the world. ‘The character and purport 
of the volume are sufficiently disclosed in the 
parting words of the Journalist. “It aspires,” 
as is justly said, “to none of the appropriate in- 
terest either of a novel or a biography.” It might 
have been very properly entitled “ Theological 
Fragments.” 


Marcu 31, 1852. 


CONTENTS: 


INTRODUCTION . . . ° ° e ° 
A GENUINE SCEPTIC ° ° ° e e 
A VERSATILE BELIEVER . e ° ° ° 
PURITAN INFIDELITY . ° . ° ° 


LORD HERBERT AND MODERN DEISM ° . 
SOME CURIOUS PARADOXES . e ° ° 


PROBLEMS e e e e ° e e ° 


A DIALOGUE SHOWING THAT “THAT MAY BE POSSIBLE 


MAN WHICH IS IMPOSSIBLE WITH GOD” 


A SCEPTIC’S FAVORITE TOPICS . . “ 
UNSTABLE EQUILIBRIUM . : : : : 
A SCEPTIC’S FIRST CATECHISM . : 2 


SOME LIGHT ON THE MYSTERY : . : 
BELIEF AND FAITH : F : , : 
THE “VIA MEDIA” OF DEISM . - 

A SCEPTIC’S SELECT PARTY .- “ : p 


HOW IT WAS THAT INFIDELITY PREVENTED MY BECOMING AN 


INFIDEL . ° ° ° ° . . 
SKIRMISHES ° ° e ° a e e 
CHRISTIAN ETHICS ° ° . ° . 
THE BLANK BIBLE . ° ° ° ° ° 


A DIALOGUE IN WHICH IT IS CONTENDED “THAT MIRACLES ARE 


° 


IMPOSSIBLE, BUT THAT IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO PROVE IT” 


THE ANALOGIES OF AN EXTERNAL REVELATION WITH THE LAWS 


AND CONDITIONS OF HUMAN DEVELOPMENT 


ON A PREVAILING FALLACY ‘ : ; 


HISTORIC CREDIBILITY . ° : ° . 


101 
103 
105 
106 
118 
167 


194 
222 
226 
231 


246 


283 


306 
3ll 


X1V CONTENTS. 


A KNOTTY POINT . ; : = 2 : 4 r : 325 
MEDICAL ANALOGIES : m : 4 ‘ 2 ere We 3380 
HISTORIC CRITICISM. : d - c 5 , 335 
THE “PAPAL AGGRESSION” PROVED TO BE IMPOSSIBLE - - 342 
THE PARADISE OF FOULS : s c 5 : : 360 
A FUTURE LIFE : ; Z ‘ - “ S ‘ 4 - 379 
A VARIABLE QUANTITY - . 6 ‘ A ; : - 393 
DISCUSSION OF THREE POINTS 3 : - 5 “ : - 414 


THE LAST EVENING . . . . : . . ° ° 428 


THE 


ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


, SouTH PaciFic. 


To K. B****, Misstonary IN 


Wednesday, June 18, 1851. 


My pear Epwarp:— 

You have more than once asked me to send you, in 
your distant solitude, my impressions respecting the re- ' 
ligious distractions in which your native country has 
been of late years involved. I have refused, partly, be- 
cause it would take a volume to give you any just no- 
tions on the subject; and partly, because Iam not quite 
sure that you would not be happier inignorance. Think, 
if you can, of your native land as in this respect what 
it was when you left it, on your exile of Christian love, 
some fifteen years ago. 

I little thought I should ever have so mournful a 
motive to depart in some degree from my resolution. 
I intended to leave you to glean what you could of our 
religious condition from such publications as might 
reach you. But Iam now constrained to write some- 
thing about it. My dear brother, you will hear it with 


a sad heart ;— your nephew and mine, our only sister’s 
i 


My THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


only child, has, in relation to religion at least, become 
an absolute sceptic! | ? 

I well recollect the tenderness you felt for him, dou- 
bly endeared by his own amiable dispositions and the 
remembrance of her whom in so many points he re- 
sembled. What must be mine, who so long stood to 
the orphan in the relations which his mother’s love and 
my own affection imposed upon me! It is hardly a 
figure to say I felt for him as fora son. “ Ah!” you 
will say as you glance at your own children, “ my bach- 
elor brother cannot understand that even such an aflec- 
tion is still a faint resemblance of parental love.” 

It may be so. I know that that love is suit generis ; 
and as I have often heard from those who are fathers, 
its depth and purity were never realized till they be- 
came such. But neither, perhaps, can you know how 
nearly such a love as I have felt for Harrington, com- 
mitted to me in death by one I loved so well, — beloved 
alike for her sake and for his own,— the object of so 
much solicitude during his childhood and youth, —I 
say you can hardly, perhaps, conceive how near such an 
affection may approach that of a parent; how closely 
such a graft upon a childless stock may resemble the 
incorporate life of father and sen. 

You remember what hopes we both formed of his 
youth, from the promise alike of his heart and of his 
intellect. How fondly we predicted a career of future 
usefulness to others, and honor and happiness to him- 
self! You know how often I used to compare him, for 
the silent ease with which he mastered difficult subjects, 
and the versatility with which he turned his mind to 
the most opposite pursuits, to the youthful Theeetetus, 
as described in Plato’s dialogue: the movements of 
whose mind Theodorus compares to the “ noiseless flow 
of oil” from the flask. 


—-— 


INTRODUCTION. 3 


He was just fourteen and a half when you left Eng- 
land; he is now, therefore, nearly twenty-nine. He 
left me four years ago, when he was just twenty-five, 
— about a year after the termination of his college 
course, which you know was honorable to him, and 
gratifying to me. He then went to spend a year, or a 
year and a half, as he supposed, in Germany. His stay 
(he was not all the time in Germany, however) was 
prolonged for more than three years. In the letters 
' which I received from him, and which gradually be- 
came more rare and more brief, there was (without 
one symptom of decay of personal affection) a certain 
air of gradually increasing constraint, in relation to 
the subject which I knew and felt to be all-important. 
Alas! my prophetic soul took it aright; this constraint 
was the faint penumbra of a disastrous eclipse indeed! 
He was not, as so many profess to be, convinced by any 
particular book (as that of Strauss, for example) that 
the history of Christianity is false; nay, he declares 
that he is not convinced of that even. now; he is a gen- 
uine sceptic, and is the subject, he says, of invincible 
doubts. ‘Those doubts have extended at length to the 
whole field of theology, and are due principally, as he 
Himself has owned, to the spectacle of the interminable 
controversies which (turn where he would) occupied the 
mind of Germany. Even when he returned home, 
he does not appear to have finally abandoned the 
notion of the possibility of constructing some religious 
system in the place of Christianity ;—— this, as he af- 
firms, is a later conviction forced upon him by examin- 
ing the systems of such men as have attempted the 
solution of the problem. He declares the result wholly 
unsatisfactory; that, sceptical as he was and is with 
regard to the truth of Christianity, he is not even scep- 
tical with regard to these theories; and he declares 


4 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


that if the undoubtedly powerful minds which have 
framed them have so signally failed in removing his 
doubts, and affording him a rock to stand upon, he can- 
not prevail upon himself to struggle further. 

And so, instead of stopping at any of those misera- 
ble road-side inns between Christianity and scepticism, 
through whose ragged windows all the winds of heaven 
are blowing, and whose gaudy “signs” assure us there 
is good entertainment within for man and beast,’ — 
whereas it is only for the latter, — Harrington still trav- 
elled on in hopes of finding some better shelter, and 
now, in the dark night, and a night of tempest too, 
finds himself on the open heath. To employ his own 
words, “he could not rest contented with one-sided the- 
ories or inconsequential reasonings, and has pursued 
the argument to its logical termination.” He is ill at 
ease in mind, I hear, and not in robust health; and | 
am just going to visit him. . 

I shall have some melancholy scenes with him; I 
feel that. Do you remember, when we were in Swit- 
zerland together, how, as we wound down the Susten 
and the Grimsel passes, with the perpendicular cliffs 
some thousand feet above us, and a torrent as many 
feet below, we used to shudder at the thought of two 
men, wrestling upon that dizzy verge, and striving to 
throw each other over! I almost imagine that I am 
about to engage in such a strife now, with the addi- 
tional horror that the contest is (as one may say) be- 
tween father and son. Nay, it is yet more terrible ; 
for in such a contest there, I almost feel as if I could 
be contented to employ only a passive resistance. But 
I must here learn to school my heart and mind to an 
active and desperate conflict. I fear lest I should do 
more harm than good; and I am sure I shall if I suffer 
impatience and irascibility to prevail. I shall, perhaps, 


INTRODUCTION. 5 


also hear from those lips which once addressed me 
only in the accents of respect and kindness, language 
indicative of that alienation which is the inevitable 
result of marked dissimilarity of sentiment and char- 
acter, and which, according to Aristotle’s most just 
description, will often dissolve the truest friendship, 
at all events, extinguish (just as prolonged absenc 
will) all its vividness. So impossible is it for the 
full sympathies of the heart to coexist with absolute 
antipathy of the intellect! Nay, I shall, perhaps, have 
to listen to the language which I cannot but consider 
as “impiety” and “blasphemy,” and yet keep my tem- 
per. 

I half feel, however, that Iam doing him injustice in 
much of this; and I will not “judge before the time.” 
It cannot be that he will ever cease to regard me with 
affection, though, perhaps, no longer with reverence , 
and I am confident that not even scepticism can chill 
the natural kindness of his disposition. Iam persuaded 
that, even as a sceptic, he is very different from most 
sceptics. They cherish doubts; he will be impatient 
of them. Scepticism is, with them, a welcome guest, 
and has entered their hearts by an open door; I am 
sure that it must have stormed his, and entered it by a 
breach. 

“ No,” my heart whispers, “ I-shall still find you sin- 
cere, Harrington ; scorning to take any unfair advantage 
in argument, and impatient of all sophistry, as I have 
ever found you. You will be fully aware of the moral 
significance of the conclusion at'which you have arrived, 
—— even that there is no conclusion to be arrived at ; and 
you will be miserable, —as all must be who have your 
power to comprehend it.” 

Accept this, my dear brother, as a truer delineation 
of my wanderer than my first thoughts prompted. 

* 


6 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


But then all this will only make it the more sad to see 
him. Still it is a duty, and it must be done. | 

I have not the heart at present to give more than the 
briefest answers to the queries which you so earnestly 
put tome. No doubt you were startled to find, from 
the French papers that reached you from ‘Tahiti, and 
on no less authority than that of the “ Apostolic Letter 
of the Pope,” and Cardinal Wiseman’s “ Pastoral,” that 
this enlightened country was once more, or was on 
the eve of becoming, a “satellite” of Rome. Subse- 
quent information, touching the course of the almost 
unprecedented agitation which England has just passed 
through, will serve to convince you, either that Pio 
Nono’s supplications to the Virgin and all the English 
saints, from St. Dunstan downwards, have not been so 
successful as he flattered himself that they would have 
been, or that the nation, if it be about to embrace 
Romanism, has the oddest way of showing it. It has 
acquired most completely the Jesuitical art of disguising 
its real feelings; or, as the Anglicans would say, of 
practising the doctrine of “reserve.” ‘To all appear- 
ance the country is more indomitably Protestant than 
before. 

Nor need you alarm yourself — as in truth you seem 
too much inclined to do— about the machinations and 
triumphs of the '‘ractarian party. Their insidious at- 
tempts are no doubt a graver evil than the preposter- 
ous pretensions of Rome, to which indeed they gave 
their only chance of success. ‘The evil has been much 
abated, however, by those very assumptions; for it is 
no longer disguised. ‘Tractarianism is seen to be what 
many had proclaimed it,— the strict ally of Rome. The 
hopes it inspired were the causes of the Pope’s presump- 
tion and of Wiseman’s folly; and, by misleading them, 
it has, to a large extent, undone the projects both of 


INTRODUCTION. 7 


Rome and itself. But even before the recent attempts, 
its successes were very partial. 

The degree to which the infection tainted the clergy 
was no criterion at all of the sympathy of the people. 
‘foo many of the former were easily converted to a 
system which confirmed all their ecclesiastical preju- 
dices, and favored their sacerdotal pretensions ; which 
endowed every youngster upon whom the bishop laid 
hands with “ preternatural graces,” and with the power 
of working “ spiritual miracles.” But the people gen- 
erally were in little danger of being misled by these 
absurdities ; and facts, even before the recent outbreak, 
ought to have convinced the clergy, that, if they thought 
proper to go to Rome, their flocks were by no means 
prepared to follow them. Except among some fash- 
ionable folks here and there,— young ladies to whom 
ennut, susceptible nerves, and a sentimental imagination 
made any sort of excitement acceptable; who turned 
their arts of embroidery and painting, and their love of 
music, to “spiritual” uses, and displayed their piety 
and their accomplishments at the same time, — except 
among these, I say, and those amongst the more igno- 
rant of our rural population whom such people influ- 
enced, the Anglican movement could not boast of any 
signal success. In the more densely peopled districts, 
and amongst the middle classes especially, the failure 
of the thing was often most ignominious. No sooner 
were the candles placed upon the “altar” than the con- 
gregation began to thin ; and by the time the “ obsolete” 
rubrics were all admirably observed, the priest faultlessly 
arrayed; the service properly intoned, and the entire 
“spiritual” machine set in motion, the people were apt 
to desert the sacred edifice altogether. It was a pity, 
doubtless, that, when such admirable completeness in 
the ecclesiastical equipments had been attained, it should 


8 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


be. found that the machine woald not work ; that just 
when the Church became perfect, it should fail for so 
insignificant an accident as the want of a congregation. 
Yet so it often was. The ecclesiastical play was an 
admirable rehearsal, and nothing more. Not but what 
there are many priests who would prefer a “ full service,” 
and an ample ceremonial in an empty church, to the 
simple Gospel in a crowded one ; like Handel, who con- 
soled himself with the vacant benches at one of his ora- 
torios by saying that “dey made de music sound de 
finer.’ And, in truth, if we adopt to the full the “ High 
Church” theory, perhaps it cannot much matter wheth- 
er the people be present or not; the opus operatum of 
magic rites and spiritual conjuration may be equally 
effectual. The Oxford tracts said ten years ago, “ Be- 
fore the Reformation, the Church recognized the seven 
hours of prayer; however these may have been practi- 
cally neglected, or hidden in an unknown tongue, there is 
no estimating what influence this may have had on 
common people’s minds secretly.” Surely you must 
agree that there is no estimating the efficacy of nobody’s 
hearing services which, if heard by any body, would 
have been in an unknown tongue. 

I repeat, that the people of England will never yield 
to Romanism, — unless, indeed, it shall hereafter be as 
a reaction from infidelity; just as infidelity is now 
spreading as a reaction from the attempted restoration 
of Romanism. That England is not prepared at pres- 
ent is sufficiently shown by the result of the recent agi- 
tation. Could it terminate otherwise? Was it possi- 
ble that England, in the nineteenth century, eould be 
brought to adopt the superstitions of the Middle Age? 
If she could, she would have deserved to be left to the 
consequences of her besotted folly. We may say, as 
Milton said, in his day, to the attempted restoration of 


INTRODUCTION. 9 


superstitions which the Reformers had already cast off, 
“QO, if we freeze at noon, after their early thaw, let us 
fear lest the sun for ever hide himself, and turn his 
orient steps from our ungrateful horizon justly con- 
demned to be eternally benighted.” 

No, it is not from this quarter that England must 
look for the chief dangers which menace religion, except, 
indeed, as these dangers are the inevitable, the uniform 
result of every attempt to revive the obsolete past. 
The principal peril is from a subtle unbelief, which, in 
various forms, is sapping the religion of our people, and 
which, if not checked, will by and by give the Romish 
bishops a better title to be called bishops in partibus 
imfidelium than has always been the case. ‘The attempt 
to make men believe too much naturally provokes them 
to believe too little ; and such has been and will be the 
recoil from the movement towards Rome. It is only 
one, however, of the causes of that widely diffused in- 
fidelity which is perhaps the most remarkable phenome- 
non of our day. Other and more potent causes are to 
be sought in the philosophic tendencies of the age, and 
especially a sympathy, in very many minds, with the 
worst features of Continental speculation. “ Infideli- 
ty!” you will say. “Do you mean such infidelity as 
that of Collins and Bolingbroke, Chubb and Tindal?” 
Why, we have plenty of those sorts too, and — worse ; 
but the most charming infidelity of the day, a bastard 
deism in fact, often assumes a different form, —a form, 
you will be surprised to hear it, which embodies (as 
many say) the essence of genuine Christianity! Yes; 
be it known to you, that when you have ceased to 
believe all that is specially characteristic of the New 
‘Testament, — its history, its miracles, its peculiar doc: 
trines, — you may still be a genuine Christian. Chris- 
tianity is sublimed into an exquisite thing called modern 


10 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“ spiritualism.” The amount and quality of the infidei 
“faith” are, indeed, pleasingly diversified when you 
come to examine individual professors thereof; but it is 
always based upon the principle that man isa sufficient 
light to himself; that his oracle is within; so clear as 
either to supersede the necessity — some say even the 
possibility — of all external revelation in any ordinary 
sense of that term; or, when such revelation is in some 
sense allowed, to constitute man the absolute arbiter of 
how much or how little of it is worthy to be received. 
This theory we all perceive, of course, cannot fail to 
recommend itself by the well-known uniformity and dis- 
tinctness of man’s religious notions and the reasonable- 
ness of his religious practices! We all know there has 
never been any want of a revelation;— of which you 
have doubtless had full proof among the idolatrous bar- 
barians you foolishly went to enlighten and reclaim. I 
wish, however, you had known it fifteen years ago; I 
might have had my brother with me still. It is odrtaie 
a pity that this internal revelation — the “ absolute re- 
ligion,” hidden, as Mr. Theodore Parker felicitously 
phrases it, in all religions of all ages and nations, and 
so strikingly avouched by the entire history of the 
world — should render itself suspicious by little dis- 
crepancies in its own utterances among those who be- 
lieve in it. Yet so it is. Compared with the rest of 
the world, few at the best can be got to believe in the 
sufficiency of the internal light and the superfluity of 
all external revelation ; and yet hardly two of the “ little 
flock” agree. It is the rarest little oracle! Apollo 
himself might envy its adroitness in the utterance of 
ambiguities. One man says that the doctrine of a 
“ future life ” is undoubtedly a dictate of the “ religious 
sentiment,’ — one of the few universal characteristics 
of all religion ; another declares his “insight” tells him 


. 


INTRODUCTION. 11 


nothing of the matter; one affirms that the supposed 
chief “ intuitions” of the “religious faculty ” — belief 
in the efficacy of prayer, the free will of man, and the 
immortality of the soul — are at hopeless variance with 
intellect and logic; others exclaim, and surely not with- 
out reason, that this casts upon our faculties the oppro- 
brium of irretrievable contradictions! As for those 
“ spiritualists ” — and they are, perhaps, at present the 
greater part — who profess, in some sense, to pay hom- 
age to the New Testament, they are at infinite variance 
as to how much — whether 74, 30, or 50 per cent. of its 
records — is to be received. Very few get so far as 
the last. One man is resolved to be a Christian, — 
none more so, — only he will reject all the peculiar doc- 
trines and all the supernatural narratives of the New 
Testament ; another declares that miracles are impossi- 
ble and “incredible, per se”; a third thinks they are 
neither the one nor the other, though it is true that 
probably a comparatively small portion of those nar- 
nated in the “book” are established by such evidence 
as to be worthy of credit. Pray use your pleasure in 
the selection; and the more freely, as a fourth is of 
opinion that, however true, they are really of little con- 
sequence. While many extol in vague terms of admi- 
ration the deep “ spiritual insight ” of the founders of 
Christianity, they do not trouble themselves to explain 
how it is that this exquisite illumination left them to 
concoct that huge mass of legendary follies and mysti- 
cal doctrines which constitute, according to the modern 
“spiritualism,” the bulk of the records of the New 
Testament, and by which its authors have managed to 
mislead the world; nor how we are to avoid regarding 
them either as superstitious and fanatical fools or artful 
and designing knaves, if nine tenths, or seven tenths, of 
what they record is all to be rejected; nor, if it be af- 


IZ THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


firmed that they never did record it, but that somebody 
else has put these matters into their mouths, how we 
can be sure that any thing whatever of the small re- 
mainder ever came owt of their mouths. All this, how- 
ever, is of the less consequence, as these gentlemen con- 
descend to tell us how we are to separate the “ spiritual” 
gold which faintly streaks the huge mass of impure ore 
of fable, legend, and mysticism. Each man, it seems» 
has his own particular spade and mattock in his “ spir- 
itual faculty”; so off with you to the diggings in these 
spiritual mines of Ophir. You will say, Why not stay 
at home, and be content at once, with the advocates 
of the absolute sufficiency of the internal oracle, to 
listen to its responses exclusively? Ask these men— 
for I am sure I do not know; I only know that the 
results are very different— whether the possessor of 
“insight” listens to its own rare voice, or puts on its 
spectacles and reads aloud from the New Testament. 
Generally, as I say, these good folks are resolved that 
all that is supernatural and specially inspired in the 
sacred volume is to be rejected; and as to the rest, 
which by the way might be conveniently published as 
the “ Spiritualists’ Bible” (in two or three sheets, 48mo, 
say), that would still require a careful winnowing ; for, 
while one man tells us that the Apostle Paul, in his 
intense appreciation of the “spiritual element,’ made 
light even of the “resurrection of Christ,’ and every- 
where shows his superiority to the beggarly elements of 
history, dogma, and ritual, another declares that he was 
so enslaved by his Jewish prejudices and the trumpery 
he had picked up at the feet of Gamaliel, that he knew 
but little or next to nothing of the real mystery of the 
very Gospel he preached; that while he proclaims that 
it is “revealed, after having been hidden from ages and 
generations,” he himself manages to hide it afresh. 


INTRODUCTION. id 


This you will be told is a perpetual process, going 
on even now; that as all the “earlier prophets” were 
unconscious instruments of a purpose beyond their im- 
mediate range of thought, so the Apostles themselves 
similarly illustrated the shallowness of their range of 
thought; that, in fact, the true significance of the Gos- 
pel lay beyond them, and doubtless also, for the very 
same reasons, lies beyond us. In other words, this 
class of spiritualists tell us that Christianity is a “ de- 
velopment,” as the Papists also assert, and the New 
Testament its first imperfect and rudimentary product ; 
only, unhappily, as the development, it seems, may be 
things so very different as Popery and Infidelity, we 
are as far as ever from any criterium as to. which, out 
of the ten thousand possible developments, is the true ; 
but it isa matter of the less consequence, since it will, 
on such reasoning, be always something future. 
“Unhappy Paul!” you will say. Yes, it is no bet- 
ter with him than it was in our youth some five-and- 
twenty yeass ago. Do you not remember the astute 
old German Professor in his lecture-room introducing 
the Apostle as examining with ever-increasing wonder 
the various contradictory systems which the perverse- 
ness of exegesis had extracted from his Epistles, and at 
length, as he saw one from which every feature of 
Christianity had been erased, exclaiming in a fright, 
“Was ist das?” But I will not detain you on the 
vagaries of the new school of spiritualists. I shall hear 
enough of them, I have no doubt, from Harrington; he 
will riot in their extravagances and contradictions as a 
justification of his own scepticism. In very truth their 
authors are fit for nothing else than to be recruiting 
officers for undisguised infidelity; and this has been the 
consistent termination with very many of their converts. 
Yet many of them tell us, after putting men on this 
2 


14 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


inclined plane of smooth ice, that it is the only place 
where they can be secure against tumbling into Infi- 
delity, Atheism, Pantheism, ‘Gcenue aet Some of the 
Oxford Tractarians informed us, a little before crossing 
the border, that their system was the surest bulwark 
against Romanism; and in the same way is this exqui- 
site “ spiritualism ” a safeguard against infidelity. 

Between many of our modern “ spiritualists ” and the 
Romanists there is a parallelism of movement abso- 
lutely ludicrous. You may chance to hear both de- 
claiming, with equal fervor, against “intellect” and 
“logic” as totally incompetent to decide on “ religious” 
or “spiritual” truth, and in favor of a “faith” which 
disclaims all alliance with them. You may chance tc 
hear them both insisting on an absolute submission te 
an “infallible authority” other than the Bible; the one 
external, — that is, the Pope; the other internal, — that 

“Spiritual Insight”; both exacting absolute sub- 
wliscign: the one to the outward Bae the Church, 
the other to the inward oracle, himself; both insisting 
that the Bible is but the first imperfect product of gen- 
uine Christianity, which is perfected by a “develop-— 
ment,” though as to the direction of that development 
they certainly do not agree. Both, if I may judge by 
some recent speculations, recoil from the Bible even 
more than they do from one another; and both would 
get rid of it, — one by locking it up, and the other by 
tearing it to tatters. Thus receding in opposite direc- 
tions round the circle, they are found placed side by 
side at the same extremity of a diameter, at the other 
extremity of which is the — Bible. 'The resemblances, 
in some instances, are so striking, that one is reminded 
of that little animal, the fresh-water polype, whose ex- 
ternal structure is so absolutely a mere prolongation 
of the internal, that you may turn him inside out, and 
all the functions of life go on just as well as before. 


INTRODUCTION. 15 


It is impossible to convey to you an adequate idea of 
the bouleversement which has taken place in our religious 
relations, — even in each man’s little sphere. It is as if 
the religious world were a masquerade, where you cease 
to feel surprise at finding some familiar acquaintance 
disguised in the most fantastical costume. ‘There is our 
old friend W. , rigorously, as you know, educated in 
his old father’s Evangelical notions, ready to be a con- 
fessor for the two wax candles, even though unlighted, 
and to be a martyr for them if but lighted. His cousin 
in the opposite direction has found even the most meagre 
naturalism too much for him, and avows himself a Pan- 
theist. L , the son, you remember, of an independ- 
ent minister, is ready to go nobly to death in defence of 
the prerogatives of his “apostolic succession”; and has 
not the slightest doubts ‘that he can make out his spir- 
itual genealogy, without a broken link, from the first 
Bishop of Rome, downwards! —though, poor fellow, it 
would puzzle him to say who was his great-grandfather. 
E , you are aware, has long since joined the Church 
of Rome, and’ has disclosed such a bottomless abyss 
of “faith,” that whole cart-loads of medizval fables, 
abandoned even by Romanists (who, by the way, stand 
fairly aghast at his insatiable appetite), have not been 
able to fillit. All the saints in the Roman Hagiography 
cannot work miracles as fast as he can credit them. On 
the other hand, his brother has signalized himself by an 
equal facility of stripping himself, fragment by frag- 
ment, of his early creed, till at last he walks through 
this bleak world in such a gossamer gauze of transpar- 
ent “spiritualism,” that it makes you both shiver and 
blush to look at him. Your old acquaintance P ; 
true to his youthful qualities (which now have most 
abundant exercise), who has the “ charity which be- 
lieveth all things,” though certainly not that which 


16 '  OHE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“beareth all things,” goes about apologizing for all 
religious systems, and finding truth in every thing ;— 
our beloved Harrington, on the other hand, bewildered - 
by all this confusion, finds truth —in nothing. 

Yet you must not imagine that our religious maladies 
are at present more than sporadic; or that the great 
bulk of our population are at present affected by them: 
they still believe the Bible to be the revealed Word of 
God. Should these diseases ever become epidemic, they 
will soon degenerate into a still worse type. Many 
apostles of Atheism and Pantheism amongst our lower 
classes say (and perhaps truly), that this modern “ spirit- 
ualism” is but a transition state. In that case, you 
will have to recall, with a deeper meaning, the song of 
Byron, which you told me gave you such anguish, 
as you paced the deck on the evening in which you 
lost sight of Old England,—“ My native land, good 
night!” 

I have sometimes mournfully asked myself, whether 
the world may not yet want a few experiments as to 
whether it cannot get on better without Christianity 
and the Bible; but I hope England is not destined to 
be the laboratory. 

I almost envy your happier lot. I picture to myself 
your unsophisticated folks, just reclaimed from the 
grossest barbarism and idolatry, receiving the simple 
Gospel (as it ought to be received) with grateful won 
der, as Heaven’s own method of making man wise and 
happy; reverencing the Bible as what it is, —an infal- 
lible guide through this world to a better; “a light shin- 
ing in a dark place.” They listen with unquestioning 
simplicity to its disclosures, which find an echo in their 
own hearts, and with a reverence which is due to a- 
volume which has transformed them from savages into 
men, and from idolaters into Christians. They are not 


INTRODUCTION. 17 


troubled with doubts of its authenticity or its divinity; 
with talk of various readings and discordant manu- 
scripts; with subtle theories for proving that its miracles 
are legends, or its history myths, or with any other of 
the infinite vagaries of perverted learning. Neither 
are they perplexed with the assurances of those who tell 
them that, though divine, the Bible is, in fact, a most 
dangerous book, and who would request them, in their 
new-born enlightenment, to be pleased to shut their 
eyes, and to return to a religion of ceremony quite as 
absurd and almost as cruel as the polytheism they have 
renounced. I imagine you and your little flock in the 
Sabbath stillness of those mountains and green valleys, 
of which you give me such pleasant descriptions, ex- 
hibiting a specimen of a truly primitive Christianity ; 
I imagine that the peace within is as deep as the tran- 
quillity without. 

Yet I know it cannot be; for you and your flock are 
men, — aud that one word alone sutflices to dissolve the 
charm. You and they have cares, and worse than 
cares, which make you like all the rest of the world; 
for guilt and sorrow are of no clime, and the “happy 
valley” never existed except in the pages of Rasselas. 
You are, doubtless, plagued by every now and then 
finding that some half-reclaimed cannibal confesses that 
he has not quite got over his gloating recollections of 
the delicacies of his diabolical cuisine; or that fash- 
ionable converts turn with a yearning heart, not to the- 
atres and balls, but to the “dear remembrance” of the 
splendors of tattoo and amocos; or that some unlucky 
wretch who has not mastered the hideous passions of 
his old paganism has almost battered out the brains of 
a fellow-disciple in a sudden paroxysm of anger; or 
that some timid soul is haunted with half-subdued sus- 
picions that some great goggle-eyed idol, with whose 

9 * 


18 TILE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


worship his whole existence has been associated, is not, 
what St. Paul declares it is, absolutely “ nothing in the 
world.” And then you vex your soul about these 
things, and worry yourself with apprehensions lest “ you 
should have labored in vain and spent your strength 
for naught”; and lastly, trouble yourself still more lest 
you should lose your temper and your patience into the 
bargain. 

Yes, your scenery is doubtless beautiful, as the 
sketches you have sent me sufficiently show; especially 
that scene at the foot of the mountain Moraii or Mauroi, 
for I cannot quite make out the pencil-marks. But, 
beautiful as they are, they are not more so than those 
which greet my eye even now from my study window. 
No, there is no fault to be found with external nature; 
it is man only who spoils it all. I see nothing in sun, 
moon, or stars, in mountain, forest, or stream, that 
needs to be altered; we are the blot on this fair world. 
*O man,” I am sometimes ready to exclaim, “what a 
”; but I check myself, for as Correggio whispered 
to himself exultingly, “J also am a painter,” so must 
I, though with very different feelings, say, “I also am 
aman.” Johnson said, that every man probably knows 
worse of himself than he certainly knows of most other 
men; and so I am determined that misanthropy, if it 
is to be indulged at all, shall, like its opposite charity, 
“begin at home.” 

Yet, now I think better of it, it shall not begin at 
all; for I recollect that He also was a “man,’ who 
was infinitely more; who has penetrated even this 
cloudy shrine of clay with the effulgence of His glory ; 
and so let me resolve. that our common humanity shall 
be held sacred for His sake, and pitied for its own. 
Thus -ends my little, transient fit of spleen, and. thus 
may it ever end. 


INTRODUCTION. 19 


May we feel more and more, my dearest brother, 
the interior presence of that “guest of guests,” that 
Divine Impersonation of 'Truth, Rectitude, and Love, 
whose image has had more power to soothe and tran-_ 
quillize, stimulate and fortify, the human heart, than all 
the philosophies ever devised by man; who has not 
merely left us rules of conduct, expressed with incom- 
parable force and comprehensiveness, and illustrated by 
images of unequalled pathos and beauty; who was not 
merely (and yet, herein alone, how superior to all other 
masters) the living type of His own glorious doctrine, 
and aflects us as we gaze upon Him with that trans- 
forming influence which the studious contemplation of 
all excellence exerts by a necessary law of our nature ; 
but whose Life and Death include all motives which 
ean enforce His lessons on humanity ; — motives all 
intensely animated by the conviction that He is a Liv- 
ing Personality, in communion with our own spirits, 
and attracted towards us by all the sympathies of a 
friendship truly Divine; “who can be touched with 
the feelifigs of our infirmities, though Himself without 
sin.” May He become so familiar to our souls, that no 
suggestions of evil from within, no incursion of evil 
from without, shall be so swift and sudden that the 
thought of Him shall not be at least as near to our 
spirits, intercept the treachery of our infirm nature, and 
guard that throne which He alone deserves to fill; till, 
at every turn and every posture of our earthly life, we 
may realize a mental image of that countenance of 
divine compassion bent upon us, and that voice of 
gentle instruction murmuring in our ears its words of 
heavenly wisdom; till, whenever tempted to deviate 
from the “narrow path,” we may hear Him whispering, 
“ Will ye also go away?” when hated by the world, — 
“ Ye know that it hated mé before it hated you” ; when 


20 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


called to perform some difficult duty, — “ If ye love me, 
keep my commandments” ; when disposed to make an 
idol of any thing on earth, — “ He that loveth father or 
mother more than me is not worthy of me”; when in 
suffering and trial—“ Whom I love I rebuke and 
chasten ” ; when our way is dark, —“ What I do thou 
knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter” ; till, 
in a word, as we hear His faintest footsteps approaching 
our hearts, and His gentle signal there according to His 
own beautiful image, “ Behold, I stand at the door and 
knock,” our souls may hasten to welcome the heav- 
enly guest. 

So may it ever be with you and me! And now I 
find the very thought of these things has cured all my 
dark and turbulent feelings, as indeed it ever does ; 
and I can say before I go to rest, “ O man, my broth- 
er, Iam at peace with thee!” 

Ah! what an empire is His! How, even at the 
antipodes, will these lines touch in your heart a chord 
responsive to that which vibrates in mine! .... I go 
to Harrington in a few days, and as our confersation 
(perhaps, alas! our controversies) will turn upon some 
of the most momentous religious topics of the day, I 
shall keep an exact journal — Boswellize, in fact — for 
you, as well as I can; and how well some of my earlier 
days have practised my memory for this humble office 
you know. I shall have a pleasure in this, not only 
because you will be glad to hear all I can communicate 
respecting one you love so well, but also because in 
this way, perhaps, I shall in part fulfil your earnest 
request to let you know the state of religion amongst 
us. You will expect, of course, to find only ¢hat portion 
of our conversations reported which relates to these 
subjects; but I anticipate, in discussing others, some 
compensation for the misery which will, I fear, attend 
the discussion of these. 


INTRODUCTION. : 91 


Thank your convert Outai for his present of his grim 
idol. It is certainly “brass for gold,” considering what 
I sent him; but do not tell him so. If a man gives us 
his gods, what more can he do? And yet, it seems, he 
may be the richer for the loss. Never was a question 
more senseless than that of the idolatrous fool, —- “ Ye 
have taken away my gods, and what else have I left?” 
His godship was a little injured in his transit; but 
he was very perfect in deformity before, and his ugli- 
ness could not, by any accident, be improved. I have 
put him into a glass case with some stufled birds, at 
which he ogles, with his great eyes, in a manner not 
altogether divine. His condition, therefore, is pretty 
nearly that to which prophecy has doomed all his tribe ; 
if not cast to the “moles and the bats,” it is to the 
owls and parrots. I cannot help looking at him some- 
times with a sort of respect as contrasted with his wor- 
shippers; for though they have been fools enougl to 
worship him, he has, at least, not been fool enough to 
worship them. Yet even they are better than the Pan- 
theist, who must regard it and every thing else, himself 
included, as a fragment of divinity. I fear that, if I 
could regard either the Pantheist or myself as divine, 
nothing in the world could keep me from blasphemy 
evéry day and all day long. 

« Again!” you will say, “my brother; is not that 
old vein of bitterness yet exhausted?” But be it known 
to you that that last sarcasm was especially intended 
for my own behoof. She is a sly jade, — conscience ; 
like many other folks, she has a trick of expressing her 
rebukes in general language; as thus: “ What a con- 
temptible set of creatures the race of men are!” — hep- 
ing that some folks will practically take it to heart. 
Sometimes I do; and sometimes, I suppose, like my 
fellows, I look very grave, and approvingly say, “ It is 


eid ‘ THE ECLIPSE OF FAITII. 


but too true,” with the air of one who philosophically 
assents to a proposition in which he is totally uninter- 
ested ; whereupon conscience becomes outrageous and 
— personal. 

I can easily imagine what you tell me, that you 
hardly know the difference between the missionaries of. 
different denominations, and are very much troubled to 
remember, at times, which is which. It is a natural 
consequence of the relations in which you stand to 
heathenism. I fancy the sight of men worshipping an 
idol with four heads and twice as many hands must 
considerably abate impressions of the importance of 
some of the controversies nearer home. Do you re- 
member the passage in “ Woodstock,” in which our old 
favorite represents the Episcopalian Rochecliffle and 
the Presbyterian Holdenough meeting unexpectedly in 
prison, after many years of separation, during which 
one had thought the other dead? How sincerely glad 
they were, and how pleasantly they talked; when lo! 
an unhappy reference to the “ bishopric of Titus” grad- 
ually abated the fervor of their charity, and inflamed 
that of their zeal, even till they at last separated in 
mutual dudgeon, and sat glowering at each other in 
their distant corners with looks in which the “ Episco- 
palian” and “ Presbyterian” were much more evident 
than the “ Christian”;—and so they persevered till 
the sudden summons to them and their fellow-prison- 
ers, to prepare for instant execution, dissolved as with a 
charm the anger they had felt, and “ Forgive me, O my 
brother,’ and “ I have sinned against thee, my brother,” 
broke from their lips as they took what they thought 
would be a last farewell. 

I imagine that a feeling a little resembling this, 
though from a different cause, makes it impossible for 
you tu remember, in the presence of such spiritual hor 


INTRODUCTION. 26 


rors as heathenism presents, the immense importance 
of many of the controversies so hotly waged at home. 
I can conceive (as some of our zealots would say) that 
you are éempted to a certain degree of insensibility and 
defection of heart; that you no longer discern the mo- 
mentous superiority of “sprinkling” over “immersion,” 
or of “immersion” over “sprinkling”; that the “ wax 
candles,” “lighted” and “unlighted,’ appear to you 
alike insignificant; that even the jus divinum of any 
system of ecclesiastical government is sometimes not 
discerned with absolute precision; and, in short, that 
you look with contemptuous wonder on half our 
“great” controversies. If I mistake not, things are 
coming to that pass amongst us, that we shall soon 
think of them almost with contemptuous wonder too. 

Vale, — et ora pro me, —as old Luther used to say at 
the end of his letters. I will write again soon. 


Your affectionate Brother, 


ro, 


24 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


-———— Grange, July 7, 1851. 


My pear Broturr:— 


I uave been with Harrington a week: I am glad to 
say that I was under some erroneous impressions when 
I wrote my letter. He is not a universal sceptic, — he 
is only a sceptic in relation to theological and ethical 
truth. “ Alas!” you will say, “it is an exception 
Which embraces more than the general rule; it little 
matters what else he believes.” 

True; and yet there is consolation in it; for other- 
Wise it would have been impossible to hold intercourse 
with him at all. If he had reasoned in order to prove 
to me that human reason cannot be trusted, or I to 
convince one who affirmed its wniversal falsity, it were 
hard to say whether he or I had been the greater fool. 
Your universal sceptic—if he choose to affect that 
character,—no man is it—is impregnable; his true 
emblem is the hedgehog ensphered in his prickles; that 
is, as long as you are observing him. For if you do 
not thus uritate his amour propre, and put him on the 
defensive, he will unroll himself. Speaking, reasoning, 
acting, like the rest of the world, on the implied truth- 
fulness of the faculties whose falsity he affirms, he will 
save you the trouble of confuting him, by confuting 
himself. 

And I am glad, for another reason, that Harrrington 
does not affect this universal scepticism: for whereas, 
by the confession of its greatest masters, it is at best 
but the play of a subtle intellect, so it does not afford 
a very flattering picture of an intellect that affects it. 


INTRODUCTION. 25 


I should have been mortified, I confess, had Harrington 
been chargeable with such a foible. 

It is true that, in another aspect, all this makes the 
case more desperate; for his scepticism, so far as it 
extends, is deep and genuine; it is no play of an in- 
genious subtilty, nor the affectation of singularity with 
him;—and my prognostications of the misery which 
such a mind must feel from driving over the tempestu- 
ous ocean of life under bare poles, without chart or 
compass, are, I can see, verified. One fact, I confess, 
gives me hopes, and often affords me pleasure in listen- 
ing to him. He is an impartial doubler; he doubts 
whether Christianity be true; but he also doubts wheth- 
er it be false; and, either from his impatience of the 
theories which infidelity proposes in its place, as inspir- 
ing yet stronger doubts, or in revenge for the peace of 
which he has been robbed, he never seems more at home 
than in ridiculing the confidence and conceit of that 
internal oracle, which professes to solve the problems 
which, it seems, Christianity leaves in darkness; and in 
pushing the principles on which infidelity rejects the 
New Testament to their legitimate conclusion. 

I told you, in general, the origin and the progress of 
his scepticism. I suspect there are causes (perhaps not 
distinctly felt by him) which have contributed to the 
result. These, it may be, I shall never know; but it 
is hardly possible not to suppose that some bitter ex- 
perience has contributed to cloud, thus portentously, 
the brightness of his youth. Something, I am confi- 
dent, in connection with his long residence abroad, has 
tended to warp his young intellect from its straight 
srowth. The heart, as usual, has had to do with the 
logic; and “has been whispering reasons which the 
reason cannot comprehend.” I suspect that passionate 
hopes have been buried, — whether in the grave, I know 

3 


26 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


not. I must add, that an indirect and most potential 
cause, not indeed of the origination, yet of the continu- 
ance, of his state of mind, must be sought in what the 
world would call his good fortune. His maiden aunt 
by the father’s side left her favorite nephew her pleasant, 
old-fashioned, somewhat gloomy, but picturesque and 
comfortable house in shire, about fifty or sixty 
acres in land, and three or four hundred a year into the 
bargain. Poor old lady! J heartily wish she had kept 
him out of possession by living to a hundred ; or, dying, 
had left every farthing to “endow a college ora 
eat.’ ‘To Harrington she has left a very equivocal her- 
itage. For with this and his little patrimony he is en- 
tirely placed above the necessity of professional life, 
and fully qualified to live (Heaven help him Nasa 
gentleman ;—but, unhappily, as a gentleman whose 
nature is deeply speculative, — whose life has been one 
of study, —and who has no active tastes or habits to 
correct the morbid portions of his character, and the 
dangers of his position. With his views already unset- 
tled, he retired a few months ago to this comparative 
solitude; (for such it is, though the place is not many 
miles from the learned city of ;) and partly from 
the tendencies of his own mind, partly from want of 
some powerful stimulus from without, he soon acquired 
the pernicious habit of almost constant seclusion in bis 
library, where he revolves, as if fascinated, the philoso- 
phy of doubt, or some equally distressing themes; all 
which has now issued as you see. The contemplative 
and the active life are both necessary to man, no doubt; 
but in how different proportions! 

To live as Harrington has lived of late, is to breathe 
little but azote. I believe that all these ill effects would 
have been, though not obviated, at least early cured, 
had he been compelled to mingle in active life, — to 


INTRODUCTION. 27 


make his livelihood by a profession. The bracing air 
of the world would have dissipated these vapors which 
have gathered over his soul. In very truth, I half wish 
that he could now be stripped of his all, and compelled 
to become hedger and ditcher. It would almost be a 
kindness to ruin him by engaging him in some of the 
worst railway speculations! 

I found him all that I had promised to find him; 
unchanged towards myself; sometimes cheerful, though 
oftener melancholy, or, at least, to all appearances en- 
nuyé; with more causticity and sarcasm in his humor, 
but without misanthropy; and I must add, with the 
same logical fairness, the same abhorrence of sophistry, 
which were his early characteristics. 

But the journal of my visit, which I am most dili- 
gently keeping, will more fully inform you of his state 
of mind. 


i Bb. 


28 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


JOURNAL OF A VISIT, ETC. 


July 1, 1851. 


T aRRIVED at Grange this day. In the even- 
ing, as Harrington and myself were conversing in the 
library, I availed myself of a pause in the conversation 
to break the ice in relation to the topic which lay near- 
est my heart, by saying :— 

“ And so you have become, they tell me, 2 universal 
sceptic ?” 

“Not quite,” he replied, throwing one of his feet 
over the edge of the sofa on which he was reclining, 
and speaking rather dogmatically (I thought} for a 
sceptic. “ Not quite: but in relation to religion I have 
certainly become convinced that certainty, like pride, 
was not made for man, and that it is in vain for man 
to seek it.” 

I was amused at the contradiction of a certainty of 
universal uncertainty, as well as at the discovery that 
there was nothing to be discovered. 

He noticed my smile, and divined its cause. 

« Forgive me,’ he said, “ that, like you Christians and 
believers of all sorts, I sometimes find theory discordant 
with practice. The generality of people are, you know, 
a little inconsistent with their creed; suffer me to be so 
with mine.” 

“] have no objection, Harrington, in the world; the 
more inconsistent you are, the better I shall like you; 
you have my free leave to be, in relation to scepticism, 
just what the Antinomian is in relation to Christianity ; 
or as true a sceptic as he was a true Churchman who 
showed his good principles, according to Dr. Johnson, 


A GENUINE SCEPTIC. 29 


by never passing a church without taking off his hat, 
though he never went into it; or even as Falstaff, who 
had forgotten ‘what the inside of a church was made 
of? I shall be contented indeed to see you as little at- 
tached to your no-truth, as the generality of Christians 
are to their truth.”. 

“ T thank you,” said he, a little sarcastically, “ I doubt 
if I shall ever be able to reach so perfect a pitch of in- 
consistency. But are you wise, my dear uncle, in this 
taunt? What an argument have you suggested to me, 
if I thought it worth while to make use of it! How 
have you surrendered, without once thinking of the 
consequences, the practical power of Christianity !” 

I began to fear that there would be a good deal of 
sharp-shooting between us. 

“ | have surrendered nothing,’ I replied. “ If every 
thing is to be abandoned, which, though professedly the 
subject of man’s conviction, he fails to reduce to prac- 
tice, his creed will be short enough. Christianity, how- 
ever, will be in no worse condition than morals, the the- 
ory of which has ever been in lamentable advance of 
the practice. And least of all can scepticism stand 
such a test, of which you have just given a passing 
illustration. Of this system, or rather no-system, there 
has never been a consistent votary, if we except Pyrrho 
himself; and whether he were not an insincere sceptic, 
the world will always be most sincerely sceptical. But 
forgive me my passing gibe. In wishing you to be as 
inconsistent as nine tenths of Christians are, I did not 
mean to prejudice your arguments, such as they are. | 
know it is not in your power to be otherwise than in- 
consistent; and I shall always have that argument 
against you, so far as it is one.” 

“ And so far as it is one,” he replied, “ I shall always 


have the same argument against you.” 
3* 


30 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 

“Be it so,” I replied, “ for the present: I am unwill- 
ing to engage in polemical strife with you, the very 
first evening on which I have seen you for so long a 
time. I would much rather hear a chapter of your past 
travels and adventures, which you know your few and 
brief letters — but I will not reproach you—left me in 
“such ignorance of.” 

He complied with my request; and in the course of 
conversation informed me of many cireumstances which 
had formed steps in that slow gradation by which he 
had reached his present state of mind; a state which 
he did not affect to conceal. But still I felt sure there 
were other causes which he did not mention. 

At length I said, “ You must give me the title of an 
old friend, —a father, Harrington, I might almost say,” 
—— and the tears came into my eyes, — “to talk hereaf- 
ter fully with you of your so certdin uncertainty about 
the only topics which supremely affect the happiness of 
man.” 

I told him, and I spoke it in no idle compliment, that 
I was convinced he was far enough from being one of 
those shallow fools who are inclined to scepticism be- 
cause they shrink from the trouble of investigating evi- 
dence ; who find so much to be said for this, and so 
much for that, that they conclude that there is no 
truth, simply because they are too indolent to seek it. 
“ This,” said I, “is the plea of intellectual Sybarites 
with whom you have nothing in common. And as lit- 
tle do you sympathize with those dishonest, though not 
always shallow thinkers, who take refuge in alleged 
uncertainty of evidence, because they are afraid of pur- 
suing it to unwelcome conclusions; who are sceptics 
on the most singular and inconsistent of all grounds, 
presumption. I know you are none of these.” 

“Tam, I think, none of these,” said he quietly. 


A GENUINE SCEPTIC. ‘él 


“ You are not: and your manner and countenance 
proclaim it yet more strongly than your words. ‘The 
only genuine effect of a sincere scepticism is and must 
be, not the complacent and frivolous humor which too 
often attaches to it, but a mournful confession of the 
melancholy condition to which, if true, the theory re- 
duces the sceptic himself and all mankind.” 

Of all the paradoxes humanity exhibits, surely there 
are none more wonderful than the complacency with 
which scepticism often utters its doubts, and the tran- 
quillity which it boasts as the perfection of its system! 
Such a state of mind is utterly inconsistent with the 
genuine realization and true-hearted reception of the 
theory. On such subjects such a creature as man can- 
not be in doubt, and really feel his doubts, without 
being anxious and miserable. When I hear some 
youth telling me, with a simpering face, that he does not 
know, or pretend to say, whether there be a God, or not, 
or whether, if there be, He takes any interest in human 
affairs; or whether, if He does, it much imports us to 
know; or whether, if He has revealed that knowledge, 
it is possible or impossible for us to ascertain it; when 
I hear him further saying, that meantime he is disposed 
to make himself very easy in the midst of these uncer- 
tainties, and to await the great revelation of the future 
with philosophical, that is, being interpreted, with idiotic 
tranquillity, I see that, in point of fact, he has never en- 
tered into the question at all; that he has failed to 
realize the terrible moment of the questions (however 
they may be decided) of which he speaks with such 
amazing flippancy. 

It is too often the result of thoughtlessness ; of a wish 
to get rid of truths unwelcome to the heart; of a vain 
love of paradox, or perhaps, in many cases, (as a friend 
of mine said,) of an amiable wish to frighten “ mammas 


32 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


and maiden aunts.” But let us be assured that a frivo- 


lous sceptic,—a sceptic indeed, — after duly pondering 
and feeling the doubts he professes to embrace, is an 
impossibility. What may be expected in the genuine 
sceptic is a modest hope that he may be mistaken; a 
desire to be confuted ; a retention of his convictions as 
if they were a guilty secret; or the promulgation of 
them only as the utterance of an agonized heart, unable 
to suppress the language of its misery; a dread of mak- 
ing proselytes,—even as men refrain from exposing 
their sores or plague-infected garments in the eyes of 
the world. The least we can expect from him is that 
mood of mind which Pascal so sublimely says becomes 
the Atheist.-...... “ Is this, then, a thing to be said with 
gayety? Is it not rather a thing to be said with tears, 
as the saddest thing in the world?” 

The current of conversation after a while, somehow, 
swept us round again to the point I had resolved to quit 
for this evening. “ But since we are there,” said I, “ I 
wish you would in brief tell me why, when you doubted 
of Christianity, you did not stop at any of those harbors 
of refuge which, in our time especially, have been so 
plentifully provided for those who reject’ the New Tes- 
tament? You are not ignorant, I know, of the writings 
of Mr. Theodore Parker, and other modern Deists. 
How is it that none of them even transiently satisfied 
you? An ingenious eclecticism founded on them has 
satisfied, you see, your old college friend, George Fel- 
lowes, of whom I hear rare things. He is far enough 
from being a sceptic.” 

“Why,” said he, laughing, “it is quite true that 
George is nota sceptic. He has believed more and 
disbelieved more, and both one and the other for less 
reason, than any other man I know. He used to send 
me the strangest letters when I was abroad, and almost 


eT 


A VERSATILE BELIEVER. 33 


every one presented him under some new phase. No, 
he is no sceptic. If he has rejected almost every thing, 
he has also embraced almost every thing; at each point 
in his career, his versatile faith has found him some 
system to replace that he had abandoned ; and he is 
now a dogmatist par excellence, for he has adopted a 
‘theory of religion which formally abjures intellect and 
logic, and is as sincerely abjured by them. If the diffi- 
culties he has successively encountered had been seen 
all at once, I fancy he would have been much where I 
am. Poor George! ‘Sufficient unto the day, with 
him, is the theology ‘thereof’! I picture him to myself 
going out of a morning, with his new theological dress 
upon him, and, chancing to meet with some friend, who 
protests that there is some thing or other not quite 
‘comme il faut,’ he proceeds with infinite complacency 
to alter that portion of his attire; the new costume is 
found equally obnoxious to the criticism of somebody 
else, and off it goes like the rest.” 

This was a ludicrous, but not untrue, representation 
of George Fellowes’s mind; only the “ friend” in the 
image must be supposed to mean his own wayward 
fancy ; for he is not particularly amenable (though very 
amiable) to external influences. So dominant, how- 
ever, is present feeling and impulse, or so deficient is he 
in comprehensiveness, that he often takes up with the 
most trumpery arguments; that is, fora few days at a 
time. Yet he does not want acuteness. I have known 
him shine strongly (as has been said of some one else) 
upon an angle of a subject; but he never sheds over its 
whole surface an equable illumination. Where evi- 
- dence is complicated and various, and consists of many 
opposing or modifying elements, he never troubles him- 
self to compute the sum total, and strike a fair balance. 
~ He stands aghast in the presence of an objection which 


34 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


he cannot solve, and loses all presence of mind in its 
contemplation. He seldom considers whether there are 
not still greater objections on the other side, nor how 
much farther, if a principle be just, it ought to carry 
him. ‘The mode in which he looks at a subject often 
reminds me of the way in which the eye, according to 
metaphysicians, surveys an extensive landscape. It 
sees, they say, only a point at a time, punctum visi- 
bile, which is perpetually shifting; and the impression 
of the whole is in fact a rapid combination, by means 
of memory, of perceptions all but coexistent; if the 
attention be strongly fixed upon some one object, the rest 
of the landscape comparatively fades from the view. 
Now George Fellowes seemed to me, in a survey of a 
large subject, to have an incomparable faculty of seeing 
the minimum visibile, and that so ardently, that all the 
rest of the landscape vanished at the moment from his 
perceptions. 3 

“ Well,” said I, smiling, “ you must not blame him 
for his not reaching at once and per saltum your posi- 
tion. He has been more deliberate in stripping himself. 
Yet he has come on pretty well.’ You ought not to 
despair of him. I wonder at what point he is now.” 

“ You may ask him to-morrow,” said he, “for I am 
expecting him here to spend a few weeks with me. At 
whatever point he may be in these days of ¢ progress,’ 
as they are called, he does not know that I am already 
arrived at the ne plus ultra; for my letters to him were 
yet briefer and rarer than to you; and I never touched 
on these topics. Where would have been the use of 
asking counsel of such an oracle ?” 

I said I should be glad to see him. “ But I shall be 
still better pleased to hear from you, why you are dis- 
satisfied with any such system as his, and especially 


why you say he ought in consistency to go much far- 
ther.” 


A VERSATILE BELIEVER. 35 


“Tam far from saying that my reasons will be satis- 
factory, but I will endeavor, if you wish it, to justify 
my opinion.” . 

“ T shall certainly expect no less,” replied I. “ You 
are strangely altered, if you are willing to assert with- 
out attempting to prove; and if yow were altered, I am 
not. When will you let me hear you?” 

“Q, in a day or two, when I have had time to put 
my thoughts on paper; but, if I mistake not, some of 
the most important points will be discussed before that, 
for Fellowes, I hear, is a very knight-errant of ‘ spiritu- 
alism,’ and it is a thousand to one but he attempts to 
convert me. I intend to let him have full opportunity.” 

“]T hardly know,” said I, “ Harrington, whether I 
wish him success or not. But one thing, surely, all 
must admire in him: J mean his candor. What less 
than this can prompt him, after abandoning with such 
extraordinary facility so many creeds and fragments of 
creeds, after travelling round the whole circle of theology, 
to confess with such charming simplicity the whole his- 
tory of his mental revolutions, and expose himself to 
the charge of unimaginable caprice,— of theological 
coquetry? I protest to you that, a priori, I should have 
thought it impossible that any man could have made 
so many and such violent turns in so short a time with- 
out a dislocation of all the joints of his soul,— without 
incurring the danger of a ‘universal anchylosis,’ ” 

“ One would imagine,” said Harrington, with a laugh, 
“that, in your estimate, his mind resembles that in- 
genious toy by which the union of the various colored 
rays of light is illustrated: the red, the yellow, the 
blue, the green, and so forth, are distinctly painted on 
the compartments of a card; but no sooner are they 
put into a state of rapid revolution than the whole 
appears white. Such, it seems, is the appearance of 


36 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


George Fellowes in that rapid gyration to which he has 
been subjected: the party-colored rays of his various 
creeds are lost sight of, and the pure white of his ‘ can- 
dor’ is alone visible!” 

. “For myself,” said I, “ I feel in some measure incom- 
petent to pronounce on his present system. When I 
saw him for a short time a few months ago, he told me 
that, though his versatility of faith had certainly been 
great, he must remind me (as Mr. Newman had said) 
that he had seen both sides; that persons like myself, 
for example, have had but one experience ; whereas he 
has had two.” 

“ If he were to urge me with such an argument,” re- 
plied Harrington, “I- should say we are even then. 
But I think even you could reply: ‘ You certainly do 
yourself injustice, Mr. Fellowes, in saying you have 
had two experiences. You have had two dozen at 
least; but whether that can qualify you for speaking 
with any authority on these subjects I much doubt; to 
give any weight to the opinions of any man some sta- 
bility at least is necessary.’ ” 

This I could not gainsay. Slow revolutions on mo- 
mentous subjects, when there has been much sobriety as 
well as diligence of investigation, are, perhaps, not to be 
despised as authority. Some superior weight may even 
be attached to the later and maturer views. But if a 
man changes them every other day ; if they rise and fall 
with the barometer ; if his whole life has been one rapid 
pirouette, it is impossible with gravity to discuss the 
question, whether at some point he may not have been 
right. Whoever be in the right, he cannot well be who 
has never long been any thing; and to take such a man 
for a guide would be almost as absurd as to mistake a 
weathercock for a signpost. 

“Jn seeking religious counsel of George Fellowes,” 


PURITAN INFIDELITY. 37 


said Harrington, “ I should feel much as Jeannie Deans, 
when she went to the ‘ Interpreter’s House, as Madge 
Wildfire calls it, in company with that fantastical per- 
sonage. But he isa kind-hearted, amiable fellow, and, 
in short, I cannot help liking him.” 


July 2. Mr. Fellowes arrived this day about noon. 
He is about a year younger than Harringion. The 
afternoon was spent very pleasantly in general conver- 
sation. In the evening, after tea, we went into the 
library. I told the two friends that, as they had doubt- 
less much to talk of, and as I had plenty of occupation 
for my pen, I would sit down at an adjoining table 
with my desk, and they might go on with their chat. 
. They did so, and for some: time talked of old college 
days and on indifferent subjects ; but my attention was 
soon irresistibly attracted by finding them getting into 
conversation in which, on Harrington’s account, I felt 
a deeper interest. I found my employment impossible, 
and yet, desiring to hear them discuss their theological dif- 
ferences without constraint, I did not venture to interrupt 
them. At last the distraction became intolerable ; and, 
looking up, I said, “ Gentlemen, I believé you might 
talk on the most private matters without my attending 
to one syllable you said; but if you get upon these 
theological subjects, such is my present interest in 
them,” glancing at Harrington, “ that I shall be perpetu- 
ally making blunders in my manuscript. Let me beg 
of you to avoid them when I am with you, or let me 
go into another room.” Harrington would not hear of 
the last; and as to the first he said, and said truly, that* 
it would impede the free current of conversation, 
which,” said he, “ to be pleasurable at all, must wind 


hither and thither as the fit takes us. Itis like a many- 
4 


38 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


stringed lyre, and to break any one of the shords is to 
mar the music. And so, my good uncle, if you find us 
getting upon these topics, join us; we shall seldom be 
long at a time upon them, I will answer for it; or if 
you will not do that, and yet, though disturbed by our 
chatter, are too polite to show it, why, amuse your- 
self (I know your old tachygraphic skill, which used so 
to move my wonder in childhood), I say, amuse your- 
self, or rather avenge yourself, by jotting down some 
fragments of our absurdities, and afterwards showing us 
what a couple of fools we have been.” J was secretly 
delighted with the suggestion; and, when the subjects 
of dispute were very interesting, threw aside my work, 
whatever it was, and reported them pretty copiously. 
Hence the completeness and accuracy of this admirable | 
journal. I cannot of course always, or even often, 
vouch for the ipsissima verba; and some few explana- 
tory sentences I have been obliged to add. But the 
substance of the dialogues is faithfully given. I need 
not say, that they refer only to subjects of a theological 
and polemical nature. 

I hardly know how the conversation took the turn it 
did on the present occasion; but I think it was from 
Mr. Fellowes’s noticing Harrington’s pale looks, and 
conjecturing all sorts of reasons for his occasional lapses 
into melancholy. 

His friend hoped this and hoped that, as usual. 

Harrington at last, seeing his curiosity awakened, and 
that he would go on conjecturing all sorts of things, 
said, “ ‘l'o terminate your suspense, be it known to you 
that [am a bankrupt!” 

“ A bankrupt!” said the other, with evident alarm; 
“ you surely have not been so unwise as to risk your 
recently acquired property, or to speculate in - 

“ You have hit it,’ said Harrington; “ I have specu- 
lated far more deeply than you suppose.” 


PURITAN INFIDELITY. 39 


The countenance of his friend lengthened visibly. 

“ Be not alarmed,” resumed Harrington, with a smile; 
“JT mean that I have speculated a good deal in— philos- 
ophy, and when I said I was a bankrupt, I meant only 
that Iwas a bankrupt—in faith; having become in 
fact, since I saw you last, thoroughly sceptical.” 

The countenance of Fellowes contracted to its proper 
dimensions. He looked even cheerful to find that his 
friend had merely lost his faith, and not his fortune. 

“Is that all?” said he, “I am heartily glad to hear 
it. Sceptic! No, no; you must not bea sceptic either, 
except for a time,” continued he, musing very sagely. 
“It is no bad thing for a while: for it at least leaves 
the house ‘empty, swept and garnished,’ ” 

‘“ Rather an unhappy application of your remnant of 
Biblical knowledge,” said Harrington; “ I hope you do 
not intend to go on with the text.” 

“ No, no, my dear friend; I warrant you we shall find 
you worthier guests than any such fragments of supposed 
revelation. If you are in ‘search of a religion, how 
happy should I be to aid you!” 

“ J shall be infinitely obliged to you,” said Harring- 
ton, gravely; “for at present I do not know that I pos- 
sess a farthing’s worth of solid gold in the world. Ah! 
that it were but in your power to lend me some; but J 
fear” (he added half sarcastically) “that you have not 
got more than enough for yourself. I assure you that 
I am far from happy.” 

He spoke with so much gravity, that I hardly knew 
whether to attribute it to some intention of dissembling 
a little with his friend, or to an involuntary expression 
of the experience of a mind that felt the sorrows of a 
genuine scepticism. It might be both. 

However, it brought things to a crisis at once. His 
college friend looked equally surprised and pleased ‘at 
his appeal. 


40 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“J trust,” said he, with becoming solemnity, “ that 
all this is merely a temporary reaction from having 
believed too much; the languor and dejection which 
aitend the morrow after a night’s debauch. I assure 
you that I rejoice rather than grieve to hear that you 
have curtailed your orthodoxy. It has been just my 
own case, as you know; only [ flatter myself, that, per- 
haps having less subtilty than you, I have not passed 
the ‘ golden mean’ between superstition and scepticism, 
— between believing too much and believing too little.” 

Tlooked up fora moment. I saw a laugh in Har- 
rington’s eyes, but not a feature moved. It passed 
away immediately. th 

«T tell you,” said he, “that I believe absolutely no 
one religious dogma whatever; while yet I would give 
worlds, if I had them, to set my foot upon a rock. J 
should even be grateful.to any one, who, if he did not 
give me truth, gave mea phantom of it, which I could 
mistake for reality.” He again spoke with an earnest- 
ness of tone and manner, which convinced me that, if 
there were any dissimulation, it cost him little trouble. 

“Tf you merely meant,” said Fellowes, “ that you do 
not retain any vestige of your early ‘historical’ and 
‘dogmatical’ Christianity, why, J retain just as little of 
it. Indeed, I doubt,” he continued, with perhaps su- 
perfluous candor, “whether I ever was a Christian ” ; 
and he seemed rather anxious to show that his creed 
had been nominal. 

“ Tf it will save you the trouble of proving it,” said 
Harrington, “I will liberally grant you both your prem- 
ises and your conclusion, without asking you to state 
the one or prove the other.” 

“ Well, then, Christian or no Christian, there was a 
time, at all events, when I was orthodox, you will grant 
that; when I should have been willing to sign the 


PURITAN INFIDELITY. 4i 


“hirty-nine Articles ; or three hundred and thirty-nine ; 
wr the Confession of Faith; or any other compilation, or 
ull others ; though perhaps, if strictly examined, I might 
have been found in the condition of the infidel Scotch 
Professor, who, being asked on his appointment to his 
Chair, whether the ‘ Confession of Faith’ contained all 
that he believed, replied, ‘ Yes, Gentlemen, and a great 
deal more.’ I have rejected all ‘creeds’; and I have 
now found what the Scripture calls that ‘ peace which 
passeth all understanding,’ ” 

“ T am sure it passes mine,” said Harrington, “if you 
really have found it, and I should be much obliged to 
you if you would let me participate in the discov- ~ 
ery.” 

“ Yes,’ said Fellowes, “I have been delivered from 
the intolerable burden of all discussions as to dogma, 
and all examinations of evidence. Ihave escaped from 
the ‘bondage of the letter” and have been introduced 
into the ‘ liberty of the spirit. ” 

“ Your language, at all events, is richly Scriptural,” 
said Harrington ; “it is as though you were determined 
not to leave the ‘letter’ of the Scripture, even if you 
renounce the ‘ spirit’ of it.” 

“ Renounce the spirit of it! say rather, that in fact 
I have only now discovered it. Though no Christian 
in the ordinary sense, I am, I hope, something better ; 
and a truer Christian in the spirit than thousands of 
those in the letter.” 

“ Letter and spirit! my friend,’ said Harrington, 
“you puzzle me exceedingly ; you tell me one moment 
that you do not believe in historical Christianity at all, 
either its miracles or dogmas, —these are fables; but 
in the next, why, no old Puritan could garnish such 
discourse with a more edifying use of the language of 


Scripture. I suppose you will next tell me that y»: 
A? 


42 | THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


understand the ‘spirit’ of Christianity better even than 
Paul.” 

“So I do,” said our visitor complacently, iC Pantie 
majora canamus’; for after all he was but half delivered 
from his Jewish prejudices; and when he quitted the 
nonsense of the Old Testament,— though in fact he 
never did thoroughly, — he evidently believed the fables 
of the New just as much as the pure truths which lie 
at the basis of ‘spiritual’ Christianity. We separate 
the dross of Christianity from its fine gold. ‘ The letter 
killeth, but the spirit giveth life,’ —‘the fruit of the 
spirit is joy, peace,’ not 

“Upon my word,” said Harrington, laughing, “ I 
shall begin to fancy presently that Douce Davie Deans 
has turned infidel, and shall expect to hear of ‘ right- 
hand fallings off and left-hand defections.’ But tell me, 
if you would have me think you rational, is not your 
meaning this: —that the New ‘Testament contains, 
amidst an infinity of rubbish, the statement of certain 
peoumrnall truths which, and which alone, you recog- 
nize.’ 

a Certainly.” 

“ But you do not acknowledge that these are derived 
from the New Testament.” 

“ Heaven forbid; they are indigenous to the heart 
of man, and are anterior to all Testaments, old or 
new.” 

“ Very well; then speak of them as your heart dic- 
tates, and do not, unless you would have the world 
think you a hypocrite, willing to cajole it with the idea 
that you are a believer in the New Testament, while 
you in fact reject it, or one of the most barren and 
uninventive of all human beings, or fanatically fond 
of mystical language, — do not, I say, affect this very 
unctuous way of talking. And, for another reason, do 


PURITAN INFIDELITY. 43 


not, I beseech you, adopt the phraseology of men who, 
according to your view, must surely have been either 
the most miserable fanatics or the most abominable 
impostors ; for if they believed all that system of miracle 
and doctrine they professed, and this were not true, 
they were certainly the first; and if they did not believe 
it, they were as certainly the second.” 

“ Pardon me; I believe them to have been eminently 
holy men, — full of spiritual wisdom and of a truly sub- 
lime faith, though conjoined with much ignorance and 
credulity, which it is unworthy of us to tolerate.” 

“ Whether it could be ignorance and credulity on | 
your theory,” retorted Harrington, “is to my mind very 
doubtful. Whether any men can untruly affirm that 
they saw and did the things the Apostles say they saw 
and did, and yet be sincere fanatics, I know not; but 
even were it so, since it shows (as do also the mystical, 
doctrines you reject as false) that they could be little 
less than out of their senses; and as you further say 
that the spiritual sentiments you retain in common with 
them were no gift of theirs, but are yours and all man- 
kind’s, by original inheritance, uttered by the oracle of 
the human heart before any Testaments were written, 
— why, speak your thoughts in your own language.” 

« Ay, but how do we know that these original Chris- 
tians said that they had seen and done the things you 
refer to? which of course they never did see and do, 
because they were miraculous. How do we know what 
additions and corruptions as to fact, and what disguises 
of mystical doctrine, ‘the idealizing biographers and 
historians’ (as Strauss truly calls them) may have ac- 
cumulated upon their simple utterances?” 

« And how do you know, then, whether they ever 
uttered these simple ‘utterances’? or whether they are 
not part of the corruptions? or how can you separate 


44 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


the one from the other? or how can you ascertain that 
these men .meant what you mean, when you thus ser- 
vilely copy their language ?” 

“ Because I know these truths independently of the 
Bible, to be sure.” 

“Then speak of them independently of the Bible. If 
you profess to have broken the stereotype-plates of the 
“old revelation’ and delivered mankind from their bond- 
age, do not proceed to express yourself only in fragments 
from them; if you profess freedom of soul, and the 
possession of the pure truth, do not appear to be so 
poverty-stricken as to array your thoughts in the tatters 
of the cast-off Bible.” 


“ Ay, but the ‘saints’ of the Bible,” replied Fellowes, 


“are, even by Mr. Frank Newman’s own confession, 
those who have entered, after all, most profoundly into 
the truths of spiritual religion, and stand almost alone 
in the history of the world in that respect.” 

“If it be so, it is certainly very odd, considering the 
mountain-loads of folly, error, fable, fiction, from which 
their spiritual religion did not in your esteem defend 
them, and which you say you are obliged to reject. It 
is a phenomenon of which, I think, you are bound to 
give some account.” 

“ But what is there so wonderful in supposing them 
in possession of superior ‘spiritual’ advantages, with 
mistaken history and fallacious logic, and so forth?” 

“ Why;” answered Harrington, “one wonder is, that 
they alone, and amidst such gross errors, should possess 
these spiritual advantages. But it also appears to me 
that your notions of the ‘spiritual’ are not the same as 
theirs, for you reject the New Testament dogmas as 
well as its history; if so, it is another reason for not 
misleading us by using language in deceptive senses. 
But, at all events, I cannot help pitying your poverty of 


PURITAN INFIDELITY. 45 


thought, or poverty of expression, — one or both; and I 
beg you, for my sake, if not for your own, to express 
your thoughts as much as possible in your own terms, 
and avail yourself less liberally of those of David and 
Paul, whose language ordinary Christians will always 
associate with another meaning, and can never believe 
you sincere in supposing that it rightfully expresses the 
doctrines of your most ‘ spiritual’ infidelity. ‘They will 
certainly hear your Scriptural and devout language with 
the same feelings with which they would nauseate that 
most oppressive of all odors, — the faint scent of laven- 
der in the chamber of death. My good uncle here, who 
cannot be prevailed upon to reject the Bible, will not, I 
am sure, hear you, without supposing that you resemble 
those Rationalists of whom Menzel says, ‘These gen- 
tlemen smilingly taught their theological pupils that 
unbelief was the true apostolic, primitive Christian be- 
lief; they put all their insipidities into Christ’s mouth, 
and made him, by means of their exegetical jugglery, 
sometimes a Kantian, sometimes a Hegelian, sometimes 
one ian and sometimes another, ‘wie es dem Herrn 
Professor beliebt’: neither will he be able to imagine 
that you are not resorting to this artifice for the same 
purpose. ‘ The Bible, says Menzel, ‘and their Reason 
being incompatible, why do they not let them remain 
separate? Why insist on harmonizing things which do 
not, and never can harmonize? It is because they are 
aware that the Bible has authority with the people; 
otherwise they would never trouble themselves about so 
troublesome a book.’ I cannot suspect you of such 
hypocrisy; but I must confess I regard your language 
as cant. As I listen to you I seem to see a hybrid be- 
tween Prynne and Voltaire. . So far from its being true 
that you have renounced the ‘letter’ of the Bible and 
retained its ‘ spirit” I think it would be much more cor- 


46 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITA. 


rect to say, comparing your infidel hypothesis with your 
most spiritual dialect, that you have renounced the 
‘spirit’ of the Bible and retained its ‘letter, ” 

“ But are you in a condition to give an opinion?” 
said Fellowes, with a serious air. “ Mr. Newman says 
in a like case, ‘The natural man discerneth not the 
things of the spirit of God, because they are foolishness 
unto him’; it is the ‘spiritual man only who searcheth 
the deep things of God” At the same time I freely 
acknowledge that I never could see my way clear to 
employ an argument which /ooks so arrogant; and the 
less, as I believe, with Mr. Parker, that the only true 
revelation is in all men alike. Yet, on the other hand, 
I cannot doubt my own consciousness.” 

“ Why, no man doubts his own consciousness,” said 
Harrington, laughing. “The question is, What is its 
value? What is the criterion of universal ‘spiritual 
truth, if there be any? ‘Those words in Paul’s mouth 
were well, and had a meaning. In yours, I suspect, 
they would have none, or a very different qne. He 
dreamt that he was giving to mankind (vainly, as it 
seems) a system of doctrines and truths which were, 
many of them, transcendental to the human intellect. 
and conscience, and which when revealed were very 
distasteful (and not least to you); but the assertion 
of a spiritual monopoly would assuredly sound rather 
odd in one who professes, if I understand you, that God 
has given to man (for it isno discovery of any indi- 
vidual) an internal and universal revelation! But of 
your possible limitations of your universal spiritual rey- 
elation, — which all men ‘ naturally’ possess, but which 
the ‘natural man’ receiveth not,—we will talk here- 
after. Sceptic as I am, I am not a sceptic who is rec- 
onciled to scepticism. Meantime, you reject the Bible 
in toto, as an external revelation of God, if I understand 
you.” 


EE 


PURITAN INFIDELITY. 47 


“ In toto; and I believe that it has received in this 
age its death-blow.” 

“Ay, that is what the infidel has been always 
promising us; meantime, they somehow perish, and it 
laughs at them. You remember, perhaps, the words of 
old Woolston, so many fragments of whose criticism, 
as those of many others, have been incorporated by 
Strauss. He had, as he elegantly expresses it, ‘ cut out 
such a piece of work for the Boylean lectures as should 
hold them tug as long as the ministry of the letter 
should last’; for he too, you see, masked his infidelity 
by a distinction between the ‘letter’ and the ‘ spirit,’ 
though he applied the convenient terms in a totally 
different sense. Poor soul! The fundamental princi- 
ples of his infidelity are surrendered by Strauss him- 
self. Similarly, a score of assailants of the Bible have 
appeared and vanished since his day; each proclaim- 
ing, just as he himself went to the bottom, that he had 
given the Bible its death-blow! Somehow, however, 
that singular book continues to flourish, to propagate 
itself, to speak all languages, to intermingle more and 
more with the literature of all civilized nations; while 
mankind will not accept, slaves as they are, the intel- 
lectual freedom you offer them. It is really very pro- 
voking ; of what use is it to destroy the Bible so often, 
when it lives the next minute? I have little doubt 
your new attempts will end just like the labors of the 
Rationalists of the Paulus school, so graphically de- 
scribed by the German writer whom I have already 
referred to. ‘It is sad, no doubt,’ says he, or something 
to the same effect, ‘that, after fifty years’ exegetical 
grubbing, weeding, and pruning at the mighty primi- 
tive forest of the Bible, the next generation should 
persist in saying that the Rationalist had destroyed the 
forest only in his own addled imagination, and that it 
is just as it was.’” 


48 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“ Yes; but the new weapons will not be so easily 
evaded as those of a past age.” 

“Will they not? We shall see. You must not 
prophesy ; in that, you know, you do not believe.” 

“ No; but nevertheless we shall see so-called sacred 
dogma and history exploded, for Mr. Newman M 

« Thinks so, of course; and he must be right, because 
he has never been known to be wrong in any of his 
_ judgments, or even to vary in them. But we have had 
enough, I think, of these subjects this evening, and it is 
00 bad to give you only a controversial welcome. i 
want to have some conversation with you about very 
different things, and more pleasant just now. We shalj 
have plenty of opportunity to discuss theological points.” 

To this Fellowes assented: they resumed genera: 
conversation, and I finished my letters. 


July 3. We were all sitting, as on the previous day, 
in the library. 

“ Book-faith!” I heard Harrington say, laughing; 
“why, as to that | must needs acknowledge that the 
whole school of Deism, ‘ rational’ or‘ spiritual, have the 
least reason in the world to indulge in sneers at book- 
faith; for, apon my word, their faith has consisted in 
little else. Their systems-are parchment religions, my 
friend, all of them ; — books, books, for ever, from Lord 
Herbert’s time downwards, are all they have yet given 
to the world. ‘They have ever been boastful and loud- 
tongued, but have done nothing; there are no great 
social efforts, no organizations, no practical projects, 
whether successful or futile, to which they can point. 
The old ‘book-faiths’ which you venture to ridicule 
have been something at all events; and, in truth, I can 
find no other ‘faith’ than what is somehow or other 


LORD HERBERT AND MODERN DEISM. 49 


attached to a ‘book, which has been any thing influ- 
ential. The Vedas, the Koran, the Old Testament 
Scriptures, — those of the New,—over how many 
millions have these all reigned! Whether their suprem- 
acy be right or wrong, their doctrine true or false, is 
another question; but your faith, which has been book- 
faith and lip-service par excellence, has done nothing 
that I can discover. One after another of your infidel 
Reformers passes away, and leaves no trace behind, 
except a quantity of crumbling ‘ book-faith’ You have 
always been just on the .eve of extinguishing super- 
natural fables, dogmas, and superstitions, —and then 
regenerating the world! Alas! the meanest supersti- 
tion that crawls laughs at you; and, false as it may be, 
is still stronger than you.” 

“ And your sect,” retorted Fellowes, rather warmly, 
“if you come to that, is it not the smallest of all? Is 
that likely to find favor in the eyes of mankind?” 

“ Why, no,” said Harrington, with provoking cool- 
ness; “but then it makes no pretensions to any thing of 
the kind. It were strange if it did; for as the sceptic 
doubts if any truth can be certainly attained by man on 
those subjects on which the ‘rational’ or the ‘ spiritual’ 
deist dogmatizes, it of course professes to be incapable 
of constructing any thing.” 

“ And does construct nothing,” retorted Fellowes. 

“ Very true,” said Harrington, “and therein keeps its 
word; which is more, I fear, than can be said with your 
more ambitious spiritualists, who profess to construct, 
and do not.” 

“But you must give the school of spiritualism time: 
it is only just born. You seem to me to be confound- 
ing the school of the old, dry, logical deism with the 
‘young, fresh, vigorous, earnest school’ which appeals 
to ‘insight’ and ‘ intuition, ” 


5 


00 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“ 


“ No,” said Harrington, “I think Ido not confound. 
The first and the best of our English deists derived his 
system as immediately from intuitions as Mr. Parker or 
you. You know how it sped —or, if you do not, you 
may easily discover— with his successors: they con- 
tinually disputed about it, curtailed it, added to it, 
altered it, agreed in nothing but the author’s rejection 
of Christianity, and forgot more and more the decency 
of his style. So will it be with your Mr. Newman and 
his successors. They will acquiesce in his rejection of 
Christianity; depend upon it, in nothing more. He 
may get his admirers to abandon the Bible, but they 
will have naught to do with the ‘loves, and joys, and 
sorrows, and raptures, which he describes in the ‘ Soul’; 
they would just as soon read the ‘ Canticles.’ ” 

“T really cannot admit,” said Fellowes, “that we 
modern spiritualists are to be confounded with Lord 
Herbert.” 

“ Not confounded with him, certainly,” replied Har- 
rington, “but identified with him you may be; except, 
to be sure, that he was convinced of the immortality of 
man as one of the few articles of all religion; while 
-many of you deny, or doubt it.. The doctrines " 

“Call them sentiments, rabhens I like that term 
better.” 

eC De certainly, if you prefer it; only be pleased to 
observe that a sentiment felt isa fact, and a fact isa 
truth, and a truth may surely be expressed in a propo- 
sition. ‘That is all Iam anxious about at present. If 
so far, at least, we may not patch up the divorce which 
Mr. Newman has pronounced between the ‘intellect’ 
and the ‘soul, it is of no use for us to talk about the 
matter. Isay that Lord Herbert's articles :- 

“There again, ‘ articles,” said Fellowes; “I hate the 
word; I could almost imagine that you were going to 
recite ‘thé formidable 'Thirty-nine.” 


LORD HERBERT AND MODERN DEISM. ol 


“ Rather, from your outcry, one would suppose I was 
about to inflict the forty save one; but do not be 
alarmed. The articles neither of Lord Herbert’s creed 
nor of your own, I suspect, are thirty-nine, or any thing 
like it. The catalogue will be soon exhausted.” 

“Here again, ‘creed’: I detest the word. We have 
no creed. Your very language chills me. Jt reminds 
me of the dry orthodoxy of the ‘letter, ‘logical pro- 
cesses,’ ‘ intellectual propositions, and so forth. Speak 
of ‘spiritual truths’ and ‘sentiments,’ which are the 
product of immediate ‘insight, of ‘an insight into 
God, a ‘spontaneous impression on the gazing soul, 
to adopt Mr. Newman’s beautiful expressions, and I 
shall understand you.” 

“Tam afraid I shall hardly understand myself then,” 
cried Harrington. “But let us not be scared by mere 
words, nor go into hysterics at the sound of ‘logic’ and 
‘creed, lest ‘sentimental spirituality’ be found, like 
some other ‘sentimental’ things, a bundle of senseless 
affectations.” 

“But you forget that there is all the difference in 
the world between Herbert-and his deistical successors. 
They connected religion with the ‘intellectual and sen- 
sational, and we with the ‘instinctive and emotional?’ 
sides of human nature.” 

“Tf you think,’ said the other, “(the substance of 
your religious system being, as I believe, precisely the 
same as that of Lord Herbert and the better deists,) that 
you can make it more effective than it has been in the 
past, by conjuring with the words ‘sensational and in 
tellectual,’ ‘instinctive and emotional,’ or that the mix 
ture of chalk and water will be more potent with one 
label than with the other, I fancy you will find yourself 
deceived. ‘The distinctions you refer to have to do with 
the theory of the subject, and will make din enough, no 


o2 THE ECLIPSE. OF FAITH. 


doubt, among such as Mr. Newman and yourself; but 
mankind at large will be unable even to enter into the 
meaning of your refinements. ‘They will say briefly and 
bluntly, ‘ What are the truths, whether, as Lord Her- 
bert says, they are “innate,” or, as you say, “spiritual in- 
tuitions,” (we care nothing for the phraseology of either 
or both of you,) which are to be admitted by universal 
humanity, and to be influential over the heart and con- 
science?’ Now, I suspect that, when you come to the 
enumeration of these truths, your system and that of 
Lord Herbert will be found the same; only as regards 
the immortality of the soul his tone is firmer than per- 
haps I shall find yours. But I admit the policy of a 
change of name: ‘ Rationalist’ and ‘ Deist’ have a bad 
sound ; ‘ Spiritualist’ is a better nom de guerre for the 
present.” 

“ We shall never understand one another,” said Fel- 
lowes: “the spiritual man % 

“Pshaw!” said Harrington; “ you can immediately 
bring the matter to the test by telling me what you 

maintain, and then IJ shall know whether your system 
is or is not identical with Lord Herbert’s; or rather tell 
me what you do not believe, and let us come to it that 
way. Do you believe a single shred of any of the su- 
pernatural narratives of the Old and New Testament?” 

“No,” said Fellowes; “a thousand times no.” 

“ Very well, that gets rid of at least four sevenths of 
the Bible. Do you believe in the Trinity, the Atone- 
ment, the Resurrection of Christ, in a general Resurree- 
tion, in the Day of Judgment?” 

“ No, not in one of them,” said Fellowes; “not ina 
particle of one of them.” 

“ Pretty well again. You reject, then, the character. 
istic doctrines of Christianity ?” 

“ Not one of them,” was the answer. 


LORD HERBERT AND MODERN DEISM. 53 


“ We are indeed in danger of misunderstanding one 
another,” said Harrington. “ But tell me, is it not 
your boast, as of Mr. Parker, that the truths which are 
essential to religion are not peculiar to Christianity, but 
are involved in all religions ?” 

“Assuredly:”’ © 

“Tf I were to ask you what were the essential attri- 
butes of a man, would you assign those which he had 
in common with a pig?” 

“ Certainly not.” 

“ Butif I asked you what were those of an animal, 
I presume you would give those which both species 
possessed, and none that either possessed exclusively.” 

“ T should.” 

“ Need I add, then, that you are deceiving yourself 
when you say that you believe all the characteristic 
doctrines of Christianity, since you say that you believe 
only those which it has in common with every religion ? 
If I were to ask you what doctrines are essential to 
constitute any religion, then you would do well to enu- 
merate those which belong to Christianity and every 
other. But when we talk of the doctrines peculiar to 
Christianity, we mean those which discriminate it from 
every other, and not those which are common to it with 
them.”. 

“But however,” said Fellowes, “none of the doc- 
trines you have enumerated are a part of Christianity, 
but are mere additions of imposture or fanaticism.” 

“Then what are the doctrines which, though com- 


mon to every other religion, are characteristic of i? 


What is left that is essential or peculiar to Christiani- 
ty, when you have denuded it of all that you reject? 
Is it not then assimilated, by your own confession, to 
every other religion? How shall we discriminate 


them?” 
5 *% 


o4 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“B7 this, perhaps,” said Fellowes, “ (for I acknowl- 
edge some difficulty here,) that Christianity contains 
these truths of absolute religion alone and pure. As 
Mr. Parker says, This is the glory of genuine Chris- 
tianity.” 

“Do you not see that this is the very question, — 
you yourself being obliged to reject nine tenths of the 
statements in the only records in which we know any 
thing about it? Might not an ancient priest of Jupiter 
say the same of his religion, by first divesting it of all 
but that which you say it had in common with every 
other? However, let us now look at the positive side. 
What is the residuum which you condescend to leave 
to your genuine Christianity?” | 

“ Christianity,” said Fellowes, rather pompously, “is 
not so much a system as a discipline, —not a creed, but 
a life: in short, a divine philosophy.” 

“ All which I have heard from all sorts of Christians 
a thousand times,” cried Harrington; “and itis delight- 
fully vague; it may mean any thing or nothing. But 
the truths, the truths, what are they, my friend? I see 
I must get them from you by fragments. Your faith 
includes, I presume, a belief in one Supreme God, who 
is a Divine Personality; in the duty of reverencing, loy- 
ing, and obeying him,— whether you know how that 
is to be done or not; that we must repent of our sins, 
—if indeed we duly know what things are sins in his 
sight; that he will certainly forgive to any extent on 
such repentance, without any mediation; that perhaps 
there is a heaven hereafter; but that it is very doubful 
if there are any punishments.” 

“1 do believe,” said Fellowes, “these are the cardi- 
nal doctrines of the ‘ Absolute Religion, as Mr. Parker 
calls it. Nor can I conceive that any others are ne- 
cessary.” 


LORD HERBERT AND MODERN DEISM. 55 


« Well,” said Harrington, “ with the exception of the 
immortality of the soul, on which Lord Herbert has the 
advantage of speaking a little more firmly, the Deists and 
such ‘spiritualists’ as you are assuredly identical. I 
have simply abridged his articles. The same project as 
your ‘spiritualism’ or ‘naturalism, in all its essential 
features, has been often tried before, and found wanting ; 
that is, of guaranteeing to man a sufficient and infal- 
lible internal oracle, independent of all aid from external 
revelation, and of proving that he has, in effect, possessed 
and enjoyed it always; only that, by a slight inadver- 
tence (I suppose), he did not know it. The theory, 
indeed, is rather suspiciously confined to those who 
have previously had the Bible. No such plenary con- 
fidence is found in the ancient heathen philosophers, 
who, in many not obscure places, acknowledge that the 
path of mortal man, by his internal light, is a lidéle dim. 
Many, therefore, say, that the ‘ Naturalists’ and ‘ Spir- 
itualists’ are but plagiarists from the Bible, and of 
course, like other plagiarists, depreciate the sources from 
which they have stolen their treasures. I think unj ustly ; 
for, whatever their obligations to that mutilated volume, 
I acknowledge they have transformed Christianity quite 
sufficiently to entitle themselves to the praise of origi- 
nality; and if the Battle of the Books were to be fought 
over again, I doubt whether Moses or Paul would think 
it worth while to make any other answer than that of 
Plato in that witty piece, to the Grub Street author, 
who boasted that he had not been in the slighest degree 
indebted to the classics: Plato declared that, upon his 
honor, he believed him! Whether the successors cf 
the Herberts and Tindals of a former day are not 
plagiarists from them, is another question, and depends 
entirely upon whether the writings of their predecessors 
are sufficiently known to them. Probably, the hopeless 


06 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


oblivion which, for the most part, covers them (for the 
perverse world has been again and again assured of its 
infallible internal light, and has persisted in denying 
that it has it) will protect our modern authors from the 
imputation of plagiarism; but that the systems in ques- 
tion are essentially identical can hardly admit of doubt. 
The principal difference is as to the organon by which 
the revelation affirmed to be internal and universal is 
apprehended; it affects the metaphysics of the question, 
and, like all metaphysics, is characteristically dark., But 
about this you will not get the mass of mankind to care 
any more than you can get yourselves to agree ; no, nor 
will you agree even about the system itself. Nay, you 
modern spiritualists, just as the elder deists, are already 
quarrelling about it. In short, the universal light in 
man’s soul flickers and wavers most abominably.” 

“I see,’ said Fellowes, “ you are profoundly preju- 
diced against the spiritualists.” 

«“ | believe not,” said Harrington; “the worst I wish 
them is that they may be honest men, and appear what 
they really are.” 

“T suppose next,’ exclaimed the other, “ you will 
attribute to the modern spiritualists the scurrility of 
the elder deists, —of Woolston, Tindal, and Collins?” ~ 

“No,” said Harrington, “I answer no; nor do I 
(remember) compare Lord Herbert in these respects 
with his successors. He was an amiable enthusiast; in 
many respects resembling Mr. Newman himself. Do 
you remember, by the way, how that most reasonable 
rejecter of all ‘external’ revelation prayed that he 
might be directed by Heaven whether he should publish 
or not publish his ‘book’? about which, if Heaven was 
very solicitous, this world has since been very indif- 
ferent. Having distinctly heard ‘a sound as of thun- 
der? ona very ‘calm and serene day, he immediately 


SOME CURIOUS PARADOXES. o7 


received it as a preternatural answer to prayer, and an 
indubitable sign of Heaven’s concurrence!” 

“ No such taint of superstition, however, will be found 
clinging to Mr. Newman. He has most thoroughly 
abjured all notion of an external revelation; nay, he 
denies the possibility of a ‘book-revelation of spiritual 
and moral truth’; and I am confident that his dilemma 
on that point is unassailable.” 

“ Be it so,” answered Harrington; “ you will readily 
suppose I am not inclined to contest that point very 
vigorously; yet I confess that, as usual, my inveterate 
scepticism leaves me in some doubts. Will you assist 
me in resolving them ? — but not to-night; let us have 
a little more talk about old college days, — or what say 
you to a game at chess?” 


July 4. 1 thought this day would have passed off 
entirely without polemics; but I was mistaken. In 
the evening Harrington, after a very cheerful morning, 
relapsed into one of his pensive moods. Conversation 
flagged; at last I heard Fellowes say, “I have this 
advantage of you, my friend, that my sentiments have, 
at all events, produced that peace of which you are in 
quest, and which your countenance at times too plainly 
declares you not to possess. If you had it, you would 
not take so gloomy a view of things. Like him 
from whom I have derived some of my sentiments, I 
have found that they tend to make me a happier man. 
The Christian, like yourself, looks upon every thing 
with a jaundiced or distorted eye, and is apt to under- 
rate the claims and pleasures of this present scene of 
our existence. I can truly say that I now enter into 
‘them much more keenly than I could when I was an 
orthodox Christian. I can say with Mr. Newman, f 


98 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


now, with deliberate approval, ‘love the world and the 
things of the world” The New Testament, as Mr. 
Newman says, bids us watch perpetually, not knowing 
whether the Lord will return at cock-crowing or mid- 
day ; ‘that the only thing worth spending one’s energies 
on, is the forwarding of men’s salvation” Now I must 
say with him, that, while I believed this, I acted an 
eccentric and unprofitable part.” 

*«“ Only then?” said Harrington. “ You were for- 
tunate.” 

“ He says, that to teach the certain speedy destruc- 
tion of earthly things, as the New Testament does, is to 
cut the sinews of all earthly progress; to declare war 
against intellect and imagination, against industrial and 
social advancement.” 

My gravity was hardly equal to the task of listening 
to the first part of Mr. Fellowes’s speech. ‘To hear that 
the common and just reproach against all mankind, but 
especially against all Christians, of taking too keen an 
interest in the present, was in a large measure at least 
founded upon a mistake; to find, in fact, that there was 
some danger of an excessive exaggeration of the claims 
of the future, which required a corrective; that the 
Christian world, owing to the above pernicious doctrine, 
might possibly evince too faint a relish for the pleasures 
or too diminished an estimate for the advantages of 
the present life ; that, their “ treasure being in heaven,” 
it was not impossible but “ their heart” might be too 
much there also, — there, perhaps, when it was impera- 
tively demanded in the counting-house, on the hustings, 
at the mart or the theatre; all this, being, as I say, so 
notoriously contrary to ordinary opinion and experience, 
seemed to me so exquisitely ludicrous that I could 
hardly help bursting into laughter, especially as I 
imagined one of our new “ spiritual” doctors ascending 


_— 


-" 


a 


SOME CURIOUS PARADOXES. 59 


the pulpit under the new dispensation, to indulge in 
exhortations to a keener chase of this world, and “the 
things of this world.” I found afterwards similar 
thoughts were passing through Harrington’s mind, ren- 
dered more whimsical by the recollection that, during 
college life, his friend (though very far from vicious) 
had certainly never seemed to take any deficient interest 
in the affairs of this world, nor to exhibit any predilec- 
tion for an ascetic life. Indeed, he acknowledged that, 
after all, he could not sympathize with Mr. Newman’s 
extreme sensitiveness in relation to this matter." 
Harrington answered, with proper gravity, “I am 
glad to find that any undue austerity of character — of 
which, however, I assure you, upon my honor, I never 
suspected you — has received so invaluable a corrective. 
Still, it is obvious to remark, that, if the chief effect 
of this new style of religion is to abate any excessive 
antipathy which the New Testament has fostered, or 
was likely to foster, to the attractions of this life, it has, 
I conceive, an easy task. I never remarked in Chris- 
tians any superfluous contempt of the present world or 
its pleasures; any indication of an extravagant admira- 
tion of any sublimer objects of pursuit. In truth, the 
tendencies of human nature, as it appears to me, are so 
strong the other way, that the strongest language of a 
hundred New Testaments would be little heeded. Your 
corrective is something like that of a moralist who 
should seriously prove that man was to take care that 
his appetites and passions are duly indulged, of which 
ethical writers have, alas! condescended to say but little, 
supposing that every body would feel that there was no 
need of solemn counsels on such a subject. It reminds 
one of the Christmas sermon mentioned in the ‘ Sketch 


* See Phases, p. 205. 


60 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


Book,’ preached by the good little antiquarian parson, 
who elaborately proved, and pathetically enforced on his 
reluctant auditors, the duty of a proper devotion to the 
festivities of the season. However, every one must like 
the complexion of your theology, though its counsels on 
this subject do not seem to me of urgent necessity.” 

“ Perhaps,” said Fellowes, “I ought rather to have 
said that Christians inculcate, theoretically, a contempt 
of the present life, while, practically, they enter as 
keenly into its pleasures as the ‘ worldling,’” — uttering 
the last word with an approach to a sneer. 

“ You may be sure,” said Harrington, “ J shall leave 
the Christian to defend himself; but if the case be as 
you now represent it, your new religious system seems 
to be superfluous as a corrective if any tendencies to 
Christian asceticism, and can do nothing for us. It ap- 
pears that your Reformation was begun and ended be- 
fore your ‘ spiritual’ Luthers appeared.” 

“ Not so,” said Fellowes, “for the eagerness with 
which the Christian pursues the world, while he con- 
demns it, is, as Mr. Greg has recently insisted, ‘a 
gigantic hypocrisy’: it is founded on a lie. They say 
this world is not to be the great object for which we 
are to live and in which we are to find our happiness ; 
we say it 7s: they say it is mot our ‘country’ or our 
‘home’; we say it is: they say that we are to live 
supremely for the future, and im it; we say, for and in 
the present; that if there be a future world (of which 
many doubt, and I, for one, have not been able to 
make up my mind), we are to hope to be happy there, 
but that the main business is to secure our happiness 
here, —to embellish, adorn, and enjoy this our only cer- 
tain dwelling-place, — and, in fact, to live supremely for 
the present. Such is the constitution of human nature.” 

“T shall not be at the trouble,” replied Harrington, 


CO 


A anc ee i i 4 | 


SOME CURIOUS PARADOXES. 61 


“to defend the inconsistencies of the Christian; but 
your system, I fear, is essentially a brutal theology, 
and, I am certain, a false philosophy. All the analogies 
of our nature cry out againstit. Why, even with regard 
to the ‘present, as you call this life, man is perpetually 
living for and in the future. This ‘ present’ (minute as 
it is) is itself broken up into many futures, and it is 
these whieh man truly lives for, when he is not a beast; 
‘and not for the passing hour. It is not to-day, it is 
always to-morrow, on which his eye is fixed; and his 
ever-repining nature perpetually confesses its impatient 
want of something (it knows not what) to come. The 
child lives for his youth, and the youth is discontented 
till he is a man; every attainment and every possession 
palls as soon as it is reached, and we still sigh for some- 
thing that we have not. It is simply in analogy with 
all this that the Christian and every other religion says 
(absurdly, if you will, but certainly with a deeper knowl- 
edge of human nature than you), that, as every little 
present has its little future for which we live, so the whole 
present of this life has its great future, which must, all 
the way through, be made the supreme object of fore- 
thought and solicitude; just as we should despise any 
man who, for a moment’s gratification to-day, perilled 
the happiness of the whole.of to-morrow. If Christians 
are inconsistent in this respect, that is their affair; but I 
am sure their theory is more in accordance with the con- 
stitution of human nature than yours.” He might have 
added, that there is nothing in the New Testament which 
forbids to Christians any of the innocent pleasures of 
this life: the Christian may lawfully appropriate them. 
His system does not constrain him to hermit-like aus- 
terity or Puritanic grimace. He may enjoy them, just 
as a wise man, who will not sacrifice any of the interests 
of next year for a transient gratification of the passing 
6 


62 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


hour, does not deny himself any legitimate pleasure 
which is not inconsistent with the more momentous 
interest. ‘The pilgrim drinks and rests at the fountain, 
though he does not dream of setting up his tent there. 

« Nay,” said Fellowes, “ but think again of the ‘ gigan- 
tic lie’ of making the future world the supreme object, 
and yet living wholly for this.” 

“If that be the case,’ said I, joining in their talk, 
“there is no doubt a ‘gigantic lie’ somewhere; but the 
question is, Who tells it? It does not follow that itis 
Christianity. You may see every day men perilling, 
nay, losing, some important advantages by loitering 
away the very hour which is to secure them, — in read- 
ing a novel, enjoying a social hour, lying in bed, and 
what not. Youdo not conclude that the man’s estimate 
of the future — his philosophy of that—is any the more 
questionable for this folly? The ruthless future comes 
and makes his heart ache; and so may it be with Chris- 
tianity for aught any such considerations imply. Your 
argument only proves that, if Christianity be true, man 
is an inconsistent fool; and, in my judgment, that was 
proved long before Christianity was born or thought of.” 

“ Your theology,” cried Harrington, “fairly carried 
out, would lead most men to the ‘ Epicurean sty,’ which, 
sceptic as I am, I loathe the thought of; it almost 
deserves the rebuke which Johnson gave the man who 
pleaded for a ‘natural and savage condition, as he 
called it. ‘Sir’ said the Doctor, ‘it is a brutal doc- 
trine; a bull might as well say, I have this grass and 
this cow, — and what can a creature want more?’ No, 
I am sure that the Christian or any other religionist — 
inconsistent though he is—appeals in this point to 
deeper analogies of our nature than you.” 

“ But the fact is,” said Fellowes, “ that the Christian 
depreciates the innocent pleasures of this life.” 


SOME CURIOUS PARADOXES. 63 


* And my uncle would say it is his own fault then.” 

“ Nay, but hear me. I conceive that nothing could 
be more natural, as several of our writers have re- 
marked, than the injunctions of the Apostles to the 
primitive Christians to despise the world, and so forth, 
under the impression of that great mistake they had 
fallen into, thatthe world was about to tumble to 
pieces, and * 

“T am not sure,” said Harrington, who seemed re- 
solved to evince a scepticism provoking enough, “ that 
they did make the mistake, on your principles. For I 
know not, nor you either, whether the expressions on 
which you found the supposition be net amongst the 
voluminous additions with which you are pleased to 
suppose their simple and genuine ‘ utterances’ have been 
corrupted. But, leaving you to discuss that point, if 
you like, with my uncle here, I must deny that the 
mistake, sapposing it one, makes any thing in relation 
to our present discussion. You say that the Apostles 
did well and naturally to inculcate a light grasp on the 
world, on the supposition that it was about to pass 
away; and therefore, | suppose, you (under a similar 
impression) would do the same; if so, ought you not 
still to do it ? for can it make any conceivable difference 
to the wisdom or the folly of such exhortations, whether 
the world passes away from us, or we pass away from 
the world ? — whether it ‘tumbles to pieces, as you ex- 
press it, or (which is too certain) we tumble to pieces ? 
I think, therefore, your same comfortable theology can- 
not be justified, ¢f you justify the conduct of the Apos- 
tles under their impression, let it be ever so erroneous. 
You ought to feel the same sentiments; you being, to all 
practical purposes, under a precisely similar impression.” 

Fellowes looked as if he were a little vexed at having 
thus hypothetically justified the conduct of the Apostles. 


64 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


But he was not without his answer, adopted from Mr. 
Newman. “ Yes,” said he, “ practically, no doubt, death 
is the end of the world to us ; but to urge this, — what 
is it, as Mr. Newman says, ‘but abominable selfishness 


preached as religion’? If we are to labor for remote — 


posterity, will not our work remain, though we die? 
But if the world is to perish in filty years, or a century, 
what then ?” 

«“ Far be it from me,” said Harrington, “to compete 
with your spiritual philanthropy, which, doubtless, will 
not be content to work unless under a lease of a mil- 
lion of years. I suppose even if you thought the world 
would come to an end in a hundred years, (and really 
I have no proof that the Apostles thought it would 
end sooner, —they spoke of their death as coming 
first,) you would not think it worth while to do any 
thing; the welfare of your children and grandchildren 
would appear far too paltry for so ambitious a benevo- 
lence as yours! Most, people — Christians, sceptics, or 
otherwise — are contented to aim at the welfare of this 
generation and the next, and think as little of their 
ereat-great-grandchildren as of their great-great-grand- 
fathers. That little vista terminates the projects of 
their philanthropy, Just as their own death is to them 
the end of the world. Meantime, it appears, you would 
be tempted to neglect the practical little you could do, 


because you could not do more than for a century or so!. 


Pray, which is really the more benevolent? Moreover, 
as not one man in a million can or does think of bene- 
fiting any but his immediate generation, you ought, 
upon your principles, still to sit down inactive ; for they 
for whom alone you can work will soon pass away too. 
But the whole argument is too refined. No mortal — 
except you or Mr. Newman — would be wrought upon 
by it.” 


SOME CURIOUS PARADOXES. 65 


«“ Well, but,’ said Fellowes, “as to the mistake of 
the Apostles, there can be no doubt of that; it really 
appears to me grossly disingenuous ” — looking towards 
me—“to deny it. What do you say, Mr. B.?” re- 
peating his assertion that the Apostles clearly thought 
that the end of the world was close at hand, — in fact, 
that it would happen in their generation. 

I told him I was afraid I must run the risk of ap- 
pearing in his eyes “ grossly disingenuous”; not that I 
deemed it necessary to maintain that the Apostles had 
any idea of the period of time which was to intervene 
between the first promulgation of the Gospel and the 
consummation of all things; for when I found our Lord 
himself acknowledging, “ Of that day and that hour 
knoweth no man, not even the angels, nor even the 
Son, but the Father only,” I could not wonder that the 
Apostles were left to mere conjectures on a subject 
which was then veiled even from his humanity. I said 
ITeven thought it probable that their vivid feeling an- 
ticipated the day,—that the interval between, so to 
speak, was “ foreshortened” to them; but that I could 
not see how the question of their inspiration, or the 
truth of Christianity, was at all involved in their igno- 
rance on that point; unless, indeed, it could be proved 
that they had positively stated that the predicted event 
would take place in their own time. This, 1 acknowl- 
edged, I could not find,— but much to the contrary ; 
that the charge, indeed, had been so often repeated by 
the infidel school, that they had persuaded themselves 
of it, and spoke of it as if it were a decided point; 
but that as long as the second Epistle of St. Paul to 
the Thessalonians remained, in which the Apostle ex- 
pressly corrected misapprehensions similar to those 
which infidelity still professes to found on the jirst 


Epistle, I should continue to doubt whether Paul did 
6 * 


66 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


not know his own mind better than his modern com- 
mentators. I told him that we do not hear that the 
Thessalonians persisted in believing that they had right- 
ly interpreted Paul’s words after he had himself dis. 
owned the meaning they had put upon them ; that this 
was a degree of assurance only possible to modern 
critics; and that I was surprised that Mr. Newman 
should have quietly assumed the alleged “ mistake” 
in his “ Phases of Faith,” without thinking it worth 
while even to state the opposing argument from the 
Second Epistle. I added, that the repeated references 
which both Paul and Peter make to their own death, 
as certain to take place before the dissolution of all 
things, sufficiently prove that, however their view of 
the future might be contracted, they did not expect the 
world to end in their day, and ought to have silenced 
. the perverse criticism on the popular expression, “ ‘Then 
we which are.alive and remain,” &c. 

Having briefly stated my opinion, Fellowes said he 
saw that he and I were as little likely to agree as Har- 
rington-and he. “ However,’ he continued, turning to 
his friend, “to go back to the point from which we 
digressed. My new faith, at all events, makes me hap- 
py, which it is plain —too plain——that your want of 
all faith does not make you.” 

“ Whether it; is your new faith,” said the other, 
“makes you happy, — whether you were not as happy 
in your old faith, — whether there are not thousands of 
Christians who are as happy with their faith (/hey would 
say much happier, and I should say so too, if they not 
only say they believe it, but believe it and practise it), I 
will not inquire; that my want of faith does not make : 
me happy is a sad truth, which I do not think it worth 
while to deny; though I must confess that there have 
been many who have shared in my scepticism who have 


PROBLEMS. 67 


not shared in my,misery. It is just because they have 
not realized what they did not believe; even as there 
are thousands of soi-disant Christians who do not real- 
ize what they say they do believe ; neither the one nor 
the other are the happier or the more sorrowful for their 
pretended tenets. This is simply because they stand 
in no need of the admirable correctives supplied by 
your new theology; the present engrosses their solici- 
tudes and affections; and the mere talk of the belief or 
the no-belief suffices to hush and tranquillize the heart 
in relation to those most momentous subjects, on which 
if man has not thought at all, he is a fool indeed. In 
either case the ‘future’ and the ‘eternal’ seem so far 
removed that they seem to be an ‘eternal futurity.’ 
Such parties look at that distant future much as chil- 
dren at the stars; it is a point, an invisible speck, in 
the firmament. A sixpence held near the eye appears 
larger; and brought sufficiently close shuts out the uni- 
verse altogether. But let ws also forget the future, and 
have a little talk of the past.” 

They resumed their conversation on subjects indif- 
ferent as far as this journal is concerned, and I bade 
them good night. 


July 5. We were sitting in the library after break- 
fast. The two college friends soon fell into chat, while 
I sat writing at my separate table, but ready to resume 
my capacity of reporter, should any polemical discus- 
sion take place. I soon had plenty of employment. 
After about an hour I heard Harrington say : — 

« But I shall be happy, I assure you, to fill the void 
whenever you will give me something solid wherewith 
to fill it.” 

It was impossible that even a believer in the doc- 


68 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


trine that no “creed” can be taught, and that an “ ex- 


ternal revelatior.” is an impossibility, could be insen- 


sible to the charm of making a proselyte. 

“ What is it,” said Fellowes, “that you want?” 

“What do I want? I want certainty, or quasi- 
certainty, on those points on which if a man is content 
to remain uncertain, he is a fool or a brute; points re- 
specting which it is no more possible for a genuine 
sceptic —for I speak not of the thoughtless lover of 
paradox, or the queer dogmatist who resolves that 
nothing is true — to still the soul, than nakedness can 


render us insensible to cold; or hunger cure its own. 


pangs by saying, ‘Go to, now; I have nothing to eat, 
The generality of mankind are insensible to these ques- 
tions only because they imagine, even though it may 
be falsely, that they possess certainty. They are prob- 
lems which, whenever there is elevation of mind enough 
to appreciate their importance, engage the real doubter 
in a life-long conflict; and to attempt to appease the 
restlessness of such a mind by the old prescriptions, — 
the old quackish Epicurean nostrum of ‘Carpe diem, 
—‘ Let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we 
die,” —‘ We do not know what the morrow may bring,’ 
— is like attempting to call back the soul from a mortal 
syncope by applying to the nostrils a drop of eaw de 
Cologne. ‘Enjoy to-day, we do not know what the 
morrow will bring!’ Why, that is the very thought 
which poisons to-day. No, a soul of any worth cannot 
but feel an intense wish for the solution of its doubts, 
even while it doubts whether they can be solved.” 

“*Carpe diem’ certainly would not be my sole pre- 
scription,” said Fellowes; “you have not told me yet 
what you want.” 

“ No, but I will. The questions on which I want 
certainty are indeed questions about which philoso- 


OE Ee a ee ee eee 


<> 


PROBLEMS. 69. 


‘phers will often argue just to display their vanity, as 
human vanity will argue about any thing; but they 
are no sooner felt in their true grandeur, than they 
absorb the soul.” 

“ Still, what is it you want?” 

“1 want to know—whence I came; whither 1am 
going. Whether there be, in truth, as so many say 
there is, a God, —a tremendous Personality, to whose 
infinite faculties the ‘great’ and the ‘little’ (as we call 
them) equally vanish, — whose universal presence fills 
all space, in any point of which he exists entire in the 
amplitude of all his infinite attributes, — whose uni- 
versal government extends even to me, and my fellow- 
atoms, called men, — within whose sheltering embrace 
even I am not too mean for protection ;— whether, if 
there be such a being, he is truly infinite; or whether 
this vast machine of the universe may not have de- 
veloped tendencies or involved consequences which 
eluded his forethought, and are now beyond even his 
control; — whether, for this reason, or for some other 
necessity, such infinite sorrows have been permitted to 
invade it;— whether, above all, He be propitious or 
offended with a world in which I feel too surely, in the 
profound and various misery of man, that his aspects 
are not all benignant;— how, if he be offended, he is 
to be reconciled;—whether-he is at all accessible, or 
one to whom the pleasures and the sufferings of the 
poor child of dust are equally subjects of horrible in- 
difference ;— whether, if such Omnipotent Being cre- 
ated the world, he has now abandoned it to be the 
sport of chance, and I am thus an orphan in the unt 
verse; whether this ‘universal frame’ be indeed 
without a mind, and we are, in fact, the only forms of 
conscious existence; whether, as the Pantheist de- 
clares, the universe itself be God,— ever making, never 


70 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


made, —the product of an evolution of an infinite se- 
ries of ‘antecedents’ and ‘consequents’; a God of 
which —for I cannot say of whom — you and I are bits; 
perishable fragments of a Divinity, itself imperishable 
only because there will always be bits of it to perish ; 
— whether, even upon some such supposition, this con- 
scious existence of ours is to be renewed; and, if so, 
under what conditions; or whether, when we have 
finished our little day, no other dawn is to break upon 
sur night;— whether the vale, vale in eternum vale, is 
really the proper utterance of a breaking heart as it 
closes the sepulchre on the object of its love.” 

His voice faltered; and I was confirmed in my sus- 


picions, that some deep, secret sorrow had had to do ~ 


with his morbid state of mind. In a moment, he re- 
sumed : — 

“These are the questions, and others like them, 
which I have vainly toiled to solve. I, like you, have 
been rudely driven out of my old beliefs; my early 
Christian faith has given way to doubt; the little hut 
on the mountain-side, in which I thought to dwell in 
pastoral simplicity, has been scattered to the tempest, 
and I am turned out to the blast without a shelter. I 
have wandered long and far, but have not found that 
rest which you tell me is to be obtained. As I exam- 
ine all other theories, they seem, to me, pressed by at 
least equal difficulties with that I have abandoned. I 
eannot make myself contented, as others do, with be- 
lieving nothing, and yet I have nothing to believe; I 
have wrestled long and hard with my Titan foes, — 
but not successfully. I have turned to every quarter 
of the universe in vain; I have interrogated my own 
soul, but it answers not; I have gazed upon nature, 
but its many voices speak no articulate language to 
me; and, more especially, when I gaze upon the bright 


ee 


PROBLEMS. ri 


page of the midnight heavens, those orbs gleam upon 
me with so cold a light, and amidst so portentous a 
silence, that I am, with Pascal, terrified at the specta- 
cle of the infinite solitudes, —‘de ‘ces espaces infinis, 
I declare to you that I know nothing in nature so 
beautiful or so terrible as those mute oracles.” 

_ «They are indeed mute,” said Fellowes; “but not 
so that still voice which whispers its oracles within. 
You have but to look inwards, and you may see, by 
the direct gaze of ‘the spiritual faculty, bright and 
clear, those great ‘intuitions’ of spiritual truth which 
the gauds and splendors of the external universe can 
no more illustrate than can the illuminated characters 
of an old missal;—just as little can any book teach 
these truths. You have truly said, the stars will shed 
no light upon them; they, on the contrary, must illu- 
mine the stars; I mean, they must themselves be seen 
before the outward universe can assume intelligible 
meaning; must utter their voices before any of the 
phenomena of the external world can have any real 
significance ! ” 

“How different,” said Harrington, “are the expe- 
riences of mankind! You well described those inter- 
nal oracles, if there are indeed such, as whispering their 
responses; if they utter them at all, it is to me in a 
whisper so low that I cannot distinctly catch them. 
Strange paradoxes! the soul speaks, and the soul lis- 
tens, and the soul cannot tell what the soul says. ‘That 
is, the soul speaks to itself, and says, ‘What have I 
said?’ Jassure you that the ear of my soul (if I may 
so speak) has often ached with intense effort to listen 
to what the tongue of the soul mutters, and yet I can- 
not catch it. You tell me I have only to look down 
into the depths within. Well, I have. I assure you 
that I have endeavoured to do so, as far as I know, 


eet THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


honestly ; and, so far from seeing clear and bright those 
splendors which you speak of, I can only see as in the 
depths of a cavern occasional gleams of a tremulous, 
flickering light, which distinctly shows me nothing, and 
which, I half suspect, comes from without into these 
recesses: or I feel as if gazing down an abyss, the 
bottom of which is filled with water; the light — and 
that, too, for aught I know, reflected from without — 
only throws a transient glimpse of my own image on 
the surface of the dark water; that image itself broken 
and renewed as the water boils up from its hidden 
fountain. Or, if I may recur to your own metaphor 
instead of hearing in those deep caverns the clear ora- 
cles of which you boast, I can distinguish nothing but 
a scarcely audible murmur; I know not whether it be 
any thing more than the lingering echoes of what I 
heard in my childhood: or, rather, my soul speaks to 
me on all these momentous subjects much as one in 
sleep often does; the lips move, but no sound issues 
from them. I retire from these attempts, as those of 
old from the cave of 'Trophonius, pale, terrified, and 
dejected. In short,” he continued, “I feel much as 
Descartes says he did when he had denuded himself of 
all his traditional opinions, — a condition so graphically 
described in the beginning of the second of his Medi- 
tations. -'There is this difference, however, and in his 
favor: that he imposed upon himself only a self-in- 
flicted doubt, which he could terminate at any time. 
His opinions had been but temporarily laid aside. 
They were on the shelf, close at hand, ready to be 
taken down again when wanted. But enough of this. 
You will, I know, aid me, if you can. And, now I 
think of it, do so on one point, by justifying your as- 
sertion, made the other evening, as to Mr. Newman’s 


5) 
dilemma of the ‘impossibility of a book-revelation?”” | 


BOOK-REVELATION,. ie 


“) said, I think, that Mr. Newman has satisfactorily 
proved to me that a book-revelation of moral and spir- 
itual truth is impossible; that God reveals himself to 
us within, and not from without.” 

“ As to what is impossible,” said the other, “I fancy 
it would be diflicult to get one thoroughly convinced 
of his ignorance and feebleness to'be other than very 
cautious how he used the word. Perhaps, however, 
Mr. Newman may be more readily excused than most 
men for the strength with which he pronounces his 
opinions; for, as he has passed through an infinity of 
experiences, it may have given him ‘insight’ into many 
absurdities which, to the generality of mankind, do not 
appear such. I think if J had believed half so many 
things, I should have lost all confidence in myself. 
What a strong mind, or what buoyant faith, he must 
have!” 

“ Both, — both,” said Fellowes. 

“ Well, be it so. But let us, as you promised yes- 
terday, examine this very point.” ‘This led on to a 
dialogue in which it was distinctly proved that 


THAT MAY BE POSSIBLE WITH Man, WHICH IS 
IMPOSSIBLE WITH Gob. 


“Mr. Newman affirms, you say,” said Harrington, 
“that in his judgment every book-‘revelation’ is an 
absurdity and a contradiction; or, in the words quoted 
by you, ‘impossible.’ ” 

“ Yes, — of ‘moral and spiritual truth.’ ” 

“ And of any other truth—as of historical truth — 
you say such revelation is unnecessary ?” 

‘You! 

“ Moreover, as you and Mr. Newman affirm, the bulk 

7 


of: Ser THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


of mankind are not competent to investigate the claims 
of such an historic revelation ?” 

“ Certainly. ” 

“ And, therefore, it is impossible in fact, if not per se, 
unless God is to be supposed doing something both un- 
necessary and futile.” 

“ | think so, of course,” said Fellowes. 

“ So that all book-revelation is impossible.” 

 T affirm it.” 

“ Very well, — Ido not dispute it. There still remain 
one or two difficulties on which I should like to have 
your judgment towards forming an opinion: and they 
are on the very threshold of the subject. And, first, I 
suppose you do not mean to restrict your term of a 
*book-revelation’ to that only which is literally con- 
signed to a book in our modern sense. You mean an 
external revelation?” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ Tf, for example, you could recover a genuine manu- 
script of Isaiah or Paul, you would not think it entitled 
to any more respect, as authority, than a modern trans- 
lation in a printed book, — though it might be free from 
some errors ?” 

“ T should not.” 

“ You would not allow that parchment, however an- 
cient, has any advantage in this respect over paper, how- 
ever modern ?” 

“ Certainly not.” 

“ Nor Hebrew or Greek over English or German?” 

NOL? 

“ All such matters are in very deed but ‘leather and 
prunella’?” 

“ Nothing more.” 

“ And for a similar reason, surely, you would reject 
at once the oral teaching of any such man as Paul or 


BOOK-REVELATION. 75 


Maithew, or any body else, if he professed that what 
he said was dictated by divine inspiration, concurrently 
or not with the use of his own faculties? You would 
repudiate at once his claims, however authenticated, to 
be your infallible guide; to tell you what you are to 
believe, and how you are to act? For surely you will 
not pretend that there is any difference between state- 
ments which are merely expressed by the living voice, 
and those same statements as consigned to a book; 
except that, if any difference be supposed at all, one 
would, for some reasons, rather have them in the last 
shape than in the first.” 

“ Of course there is no difference: to object to a book- 
revelation and grant a ‘lip-revelation’ from God, or to 
deny that lip-revelation (when it is made permanent 
and diffusible) the authority it had when first given, 
would be a childish hatred of a book indeed,” answered 
Fellowes. 

“J perfectly agree with you,’ replied Harrington. 
“J understand you, then, to deny that any revelation 
professedly given to you or to me does, or ever can, 
come to us through any external channel, printed or on 
parchment, ancient or modern, by the living voice or in 
a written character; and that this is a proper transla- 
tion, in a generalized form, of the phrase ‘a book-reve- 
lation’® 2.” 

“T admit it. For surely, as already said, it would be 
truly ridiculous to allow that Paul, if we could but hear 
his living voice, was to be listened to with implicit 
reverence as an authorized teacher of divine truth; but 
that his deliberate utterances, recorded in a permanent 
form, were to be regarded not merely as less authorita- 
tive, but of no authority at all.” 

“So that if you saw Peter or Paul to-morrow, you 
would tell him the same story?” 


76 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


« Of course I should,” replied Mr. Fellowes. 

« And you would of course also reject any such reve- 
lation, coming from any external source, even though 
the party proclaiming it confirmed it by miracles? For 
T cannot see how, if it be true that an external revela- 
tion is impossible, and that God always reveals himself 
‘within us’ and never ‘ out of us,’ (which is the principle 
affirmed,) —I say I cannot see how miracles can make 
any difference in the case.” 

« No, certainly not. But surely you forget that mira- 
cles are impossible on my notion: for, as Mr. Newman 
says 4 

« Whatever he says, I suppose you will not deny that 
they are conceivable; and that is all 1 am thinking of 
at present. ‘Their impossibility or possibility I will not 
dispute with you just now. I am disposed to agree 
with you; only, as usual, I have some doubts, whieh I 
wish you would endeavor to solve; but of that another 
time. Meantime, my good friend, be so obliging as to 
give me an answer to my question,— whether you 
would deem it to be your duty to reject any such 
claims to authoritative teaching, even if backed by the 
performance of miracles ? for, admitting miracles never 
to have occurred, and even that they never will, you, I 
think, would hesitate to affirm that you clearly perceive 
that the very notion involves a contradiction. ‘They 
are, at least, imaginable, and that is sufficient to sup- 
ply you with an answer to my question. I once more 
ask you, therefore, whether, if such a teacher of a book- 
revelation, in the comprehensive sense of these words al- 
ready defined, were to authenticate (as he affirmed) his 
claims to reverence by any number, variety, or splen- 
dor of miracles,— undoubted miracles,— you would 
any the more feel bound to believe him?” 

“What! upon the supposition that there was any 
thing morally objectisnable in his doctrine?” 


BOOK-REVELATION. 77 


« J will release you on that score too,” said Harring- 
ton, in a most accommodating manner. “ Morally, I 
will assume there is nothing in his doctrine but what 
you approve; and as for the rest,— to confirm which 
I will suppose the revelation given,—I will assume 
nothing in it which you could demonstrate to be false 
or contradictory; in fact, nothing more difficult to be 
believed than many undeniable phenomena of the ex- 
ternal universe, — matters, for example, which you ac- 
knowledge you do not comprehend, but which may 
possibly be true for aught you can tell to the contrary.” 

“ But if the supposed revelation contain nothing but 
what, appealing thus to my judgment, I can approve, 
where is the necessity of a revelation at all?” 

“Did I say, my friend, that it was to contain nothing 
but what is referred to your judgment? nothing but 
what you would know and approve just as well without 
it? or even did I concede that you could have known 
and approved without it that which, when it is proposed, 
you do approve? Isimply wish an answer to the ques- 
tion, whether, if a teacher of an ethical system such as 
you entirely approved, with some doctrines attached, 
incomprehensible it may be, but not demonstratively 
false or immoral, were to substantiate (as he affirmed) 
his claims to your belief by the performance of miracles, 
you would or would not feel constrained any the more 
to believe him?” 

“But I do not see the use of discussing a question 
under circumstances which it is admitted never did nor 
ever can occur?” 

“You ‘fight hard, as Socrates says to one of his 
antagonists on a similar occasion; but I really must 
request an answer to the question. The case is an 
imaginable one; and you may surely say how, upon the 


principles you have laid down, you think those prin 
v fetal 


78 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


ciples would compel you to act in the hypothetical 
case.” 

“ Well, then, if I must give an answer, I should say 
that upon the principles on which Mr. Newman has 
argued the question, —that all revelation, except that 
which is internal, is impossible, — I should not believe 
the supposed envoy’s claims.” 

“ Whatever the number or the splendor of his 
miracles?” 

“ Certainly,” said Fellowes, with some hesitation 
however, and speaking slowly. 

“ For that does not affect the principles we are agreed 
upon?” 

“ No,” — not seeming, however, perfectly satisfied. 

“ Very well,” resumed Harrington, “that is what I 
call a plain answer to a plain question. I fancy (wa- 
_verer that Iam!) that I should believe the man’s claims. 

I should be even greatly tempted to think that those 
things which [I could not entirely see ought to be con- 
tained in the said revelation, were to be believed. But 
all that is doubtless only because I am much weaker 
in mind and will than either Mr. Newman or yourself. 
You must pardon me; it will in no degree practically 
affect the question, except on the. supposition that the 
same infirmity is also a characteristic of man in general; 
that not J, from my weakness, am an exception to rule ; 
but you, in your strength. But to dismiss that. You 
have agreed that a book-revelation is impossible, and 
not to be believed, even if avouched by miracles. Have 
men in general been disposed to believe a book-revela- 
tion impossible? for if not, am afraid they would be 
very liable to run into error, if they share in my weak- 
nesses. ” 

“Liable to run into error!” said Fellowes. “ Man 
has been perpetually running into this very error, 
always and everywhere.” 


BOOK-REVELATION. 79 


“If it be true, as you say, that man has always 
and everywhere manifested a remarkable facility of 
falling into this error, many will be tempted to think 
that the thing is not so plainly impossible. It seems 
so strange that men in general should believe things to 
be possible when they are impossible. However, you 
admit it as a too certain fact.” 

“TI do, for I cannot honestly deny it; but it has 
been because they have confounded what is historical 
or intellectual with moral and spiritual truth.” 

“JT am afraid that will not excuse their absurdity, 
because, as you admit, all book-revelation is impossible. 
— But further, supposing men to have made this strange 
blunder, it only shows that the ‘moral and spiritual’ 
could not be very clearly revealed within ; and no wonder 
men began to think that perhaps it might come to them 
from without! When men begin to mistake blue for 
red, and square for round, and chaff for wheat, I think 
it is high time that they repair to a doctor ouéside them 
to tell them what is the matter with their poor brains. 
Meantime an external revelation is impossible ? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ But men, however, have somehow perversely be- 
lieved it very possible, and that, in some shape or other, 
it has been given?” 

“ They have, I must admit.” 

“Unhappy race! thus led on by some fatality, 
though not by the constitution of their nature (rather 
by some inevitable perversion of it), to believe as possi- 
ble that which is so plainly impossible. O that it did 
not involve a contradiction to wish that God would 
relieve them from such universal and pernicious delu- 
sions, by giving them a book-revelation to show them 
that all book-revelations are impossible !” 

« That,” said Fellowes, laughing, “ would indeed be 
a novelty. Miracles would hardly prove ¢hat.” 


80 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


a 


“ T think not,” said Harrington. “ But, as the poet 
says, ‘some god or friendly man’ may show the way. 
Pray, permit me to ask, did yow always believe that a 
book-revelation was impossible ?” 

“ How can you ask the question? — you know that 
I was brought up, like yourself, in the reception of the 
Bible as the only and infallible revelation of God to 
mankind.” 

“'To what do you owe your emancipation from this 
grievous and universal error, which still infects, in this 
or some other shape, the myriads of the human race?” 

“T think principally to the work of Mr. Newman on 
the ‘Soul,’ and his ‘ Phases of Faith. ” 

“These have been to you, then, at least, a human 
book-revelation that a ‘ divine book-revelation is impos- 
sible’ ; a truth which I acknowledge you could not have 
received by divine book-revelation, without a contradic- 
tion. You ought, indeed, to think very highly of Mr. 
Newman. It is well, when God cannot do a thing, 
that man can; though I confess, considering the very 
wide prevalence of this pernicious error, it would have 
been better, had it been possible, that man should have 
had a divine book-revelation to tell him that a divine 
book-revelation was impossible. Great as is my ad- 
miration of Mr. Newman, I should, myself, have pre- 
ferred having God’s word for it. However, let us lay 
it down as an axiom that a human book-revelation, 
showing you that ‘a divine book-revelation is impos- 
sible,” is not impossible; and really, considering the 
almost universal error of man on this subject, — now 
happily exploded,— the book-revelation which con 
_ vinces man of this great truth ought to be reverenced 
as of the highest value; it is such that it might not 
appear unworthy of celestial origin, if it did not imply 
a contradiction that God should reveal to us in a book 
that a revelation in a book is impossible.” 


BOOK-REVELATION. 81. 


Fellowes looked very grave, but said nothing. 

« But yet,” continued Harrington, very seriously, “ I 
know not whether I ought not, upon your principles, 
to consider this book-revelation with which you have 
been favored, about the impossibility of such a thing, 
as itself a divine revelation ; in which case I am afraid 
we shall be constrained to admit, in form, that contra- 
diction which we have been so anxious to avoid, by 
making ‘possible with man what is impossible with 
God.” 

«J know not what you mean,” said Fellowes, rather 
offended. 

“ Why,” said Harrington, quite unmoved, “f have 
heard you say you do not deny, in some sense, inspira- 
tion, but only that inspiration is preternatural ; that 
every ‘holy thought, every ‘lofty and sublime con- 
ception,’ all ‘truth and excellence,’ in any man, come 
from the ‘Father of lights, and are to be ascribed to 
him; that, as. Mr. Parker and Mr. Foxton affirm on 
this point, the inspiration of Paul or Milton, or even of 
Christ and of Benjamin Franklin, is of the same nature, 
and in an intelligible sense from the same source, — dil- 
fering only in degree. Can you deem less, then, of that 
great conception by which Mr. Newman has released 
you, and possibly many more, from that bondage to a 
‘book-revelation’ in which you were brought up, and 
in which, by your own confession, you might have been 
still enthralled? Can you think less of this than that 
it is an ‘inspired’ voice which has proclaimed ‘liberty 
to the captive, and made known to you ‘ spiritual 
freedom’? If any thing be divine about Mr. Newman’s 
system, surely it must be this. Ought you not to thank 
God that he has been thus pleased to ‘ open your eyes,’ 
and to turn you from ‘darkness to light,’ — to raise up 
in these last days such an apostle of the truth which had 


82 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


lain so long ‘ hidden from ages and generations’? Can 
you do less than admire the divine artifice by which, 
when it was impossible for God directly to tell man 
that he could directly tell him nothing, He raised up 
his servant Newman to perform the office ?” 

“ For my part,” said Fellowes, “ 1am not ashamed to 
say, that I think I ought to thank God for such a boon 
as Mr. Newman has, in this instance at least, been the 
instrument of conveying to me: I acknowledge it is a 
most momentous truth, without which I should still 
have been in thraldom to the ‘letter,’ ” 

“ Very well; then the -book-revelation of Mr. New- 
man is, as I say, in some sort to you, perhaps to many, 
a divine ‘ book-revelation.’ ” 

“ Well, in some sense, it is so.” 

“So that now we have, in some sense, a divine book- 
revelation to prove that a divine book-revelation is im- 
possible.” | 

“You are pleased to jest on the subject,” said 
Fellowes. 

“T never was more serious in my life. However, I 
will not press this point any further. You shall be per- 
mitted to say (what I will not contradict) that, though 
Mr. Newman may be inspired, for aught I know, in 
that modified sense in which you believe in any such 
phenomenon, — inspired as much (say) as the inventor 
of Lucifer matches, — yet that his book is not divine, — 
that it is purely human; and even, if you please, that 
God has had nothing to do with it. But even then | 
must be allowed to repeat, that at least you have derived 
from a ‘book-revelation’ what it would not have been 
unworthy of a divine book-revelation to impart, if it 
could have been imparted without contradiction. Such 
hook-revelation, in this case, must be of inestimable 
value to man, because, without it, he must have persisted 


’ 


BOOK-REVELATION. 83 


in that ancient and all but inveterate and universal de- 
lusion of which we have so often spoken. There is 
only one little inconvenience, I apprehend, from it in 
relation to the argument of such a book; and that is, 
that I am afraid that men, so far from being convinced 
thereby that a divine revelation is impossible, will rather 
argue the contrary way, and say, ‘If Mr. Newman can 
do so much, what might not God do by the very same 
method?’ If he can thus break the spiritual yoke of 
his fellow-men by only teaching them negative truth, 
surely it may be possible for God to be as useful 
in teaching positive truth. I almost tremble, I assure 
you, lest, by his most conspicuous success in imparting 
to you such important truth, and reclaiming you from 
such a fundamental error, which lay at the very thresh- 
old of your ‘spiritual’ progress, he may, so far from 
convincing mankind of the truth of his principle, lead 
them rather to believe that a ‘book-revelation’ may 
have been very possible, and of singular advantage. 
But, to speak the truth, ] am by no means sure that 
Mr. Newman has not done something more than what 
we have attributed to him, and whether his book-reve- 
lation be not a true divine revelation to you also.” 

Fellowes looked rather curious, and I thought a little 
angry. 

“ My good friend,” said Harrington, “ I am sure you 
will not refuse me every satisfaction you can, in my 
present state of doubt and perplexity ; that you will 
render me (as indeed you have promised) all the assist- 
ance in your power, by kindly telling me what you 
know of your own religious development and history. 
I cannot sufficiently admire your candor and frankness 
hitherto.” 

“ You may depend upon it,” said Fellowes, “ I will 
not hesitate to answer any questions you choose to put. 


84. THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


Iam not ashamed of the system I have adopted, — or 
rather selected, for I do not agree with any one writer, — 
although I confess I wish I were a better advocate 
of it.” 

“O, rest assured that ‘ spiritualism’ can lose nothing 
by your advocacy. As to your independence of mind, 
you act, Iam sure, upon the maxim in verba nullius 
jurare. Your system seems to me quite a species of 
eclecticism. ‘There is no fear of my confounding you 
with the good old lady who, after-having heard the 
sermon of some favorite divine, was asked if she under- 
stood him. ‘Understand him!’ said she; ‘do you 
think I would presume ?—blessed man!’ Nor with 
the Scotchwoman who required, as a condition of her 
admiration, that a sermon should contain some things 
at least which transcended her comprehension. ‘Eh. 
it is a’ vara weel, said she, on hearing one which dil 
not fulfil this reasonable condition ; ‘ but do ye call that 
fine preaching ? — there was na ae word that I couid 
na explain mysel.’ ” 

Fellowes smiled good-naturedly, and then said, “ Iwas 
going to observe, in relation to the present subject, that 
it is ‘moral and spiritual’ truth which Mr. Newman 
says it is impossible should be the subject of a book- 
revelation.” ; 

Harrington, apparently without listening to him, 
suddenly said, “ By the by, you agree with Mr. New- 
man, I am sure, that God is to be approached by the 
individual soul without any of the nonsense of media- 
tion, which has found so general — all but universal — 
sanction in the religious systems of the world?” 

“ Certainly,” said Fellowes, “nor is there probably 
any ‘ spiritualist’ (in whatever we may be divided) who 
would deny that.” 

“ Supposing it true, does it not seem to you the most 
delightful and stupendous of all spiritual truths?” 


BOOK-REVELATION. 85 


“It does, indeed,” said Fellowes. 

“ Could you always realize it, my friend?” said 
Harrington. 

“Nay, I was once a firm believer in the current 
orthodoxy, as you well know.” 

* Now you see with very different eyes. You can 
say, with the man in the Gospel, ‘ This I know, that, 
whereas I was blind, now I see.” 

“J can.” 

« And you attribute this happy change of sentiment 
to the perusal of those writings of Mr. Newman from 
which you think that I also might derive similar ben- 
efits ? ” 

oT dor 

“Jt appears, then, that to you, at least, my friend, 
it is possible that there may be a book-revelation of 
‘moral and spiritual truth’ of the highest possible sig- 
nificance and value, although you do not consider the 
book to be divine; now, if so, I fancy many will be 
again inclined to say, that what Mr. Newman has done 
in your case, God might easily do, if he pleased, for 
mankind in general; and with this advantage, that He 
would not include in the same book which revealed 
truth to the mind, and rectified its errors, an assurance 
that any such book-revelation was impossible.” 

“But, my ingenious friend,” cried Fellowes, with 
some warmth, “you are inferring a little too fast for 
ihe premises. I do not admit that Mr. Newman or any 
other spiritualist has revealed to me any truth, but only 
that he has been the instrument of giving shape and 
distinct consciousness to what was, in fact, uttered in 
the secret oracles of my own bosom before ; and, as I 
believe, is uttered also in the hearts of all other men.” 

“T fear your distinction is practically without a dif- 


ferenee. It will certainly not availus. You say you 
8 


86 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


were once in no distinct conscious possession of that 
system of spiritual truth which you now hold; on the 
contrary, that you believed a very different system ; 
that the change by which you were brought into your 
present condition of mind — out of darkness into light 
— out of error into truth — has been produced chiefly 
by Mr. Newman’s deeply instructive volumes. If so, 
one will be apt to argue that a book-revelation may be 
of the very utmost use and benefit to mankind in gen- 
eral, —if only by making that which would else be the 
inarticulate mutter of the internal oracle distinct and 
clear; and that if God would but give such a book, the 
same value at least might attach to it as to a book of 
Mr. Newman’s. It little matters to this argument, —to 
the question of the possibility, value, or utility of an 
external revelation, — whether the truths it is to com- 
municate be absolutely unknown till it reveals them, or 
only not known, which you confess was your own case. 
If your natural taper of illumination is stuck into a 
dark lantern, and its light only can flash upon the soul 
When some Mr. Newman kindly lifts up the slide for 
you; or if your internal oracle, like a ghost, will not 
speak till it is spoken to; or, like a dumb demon, awaits 
to find a voice, and confess itself to be what it is, at the 
summons of an exorcist ; the same argument precise 
ly will apply for the possibility and utility of a book- 
revelation from God to men in general. What has been 
done for you by man, even though no more were 
done, might, one would imagine, be done for the rest of 
mankind, and ina much better manner, by God. If that 
internal and native revelation which both you and Mr. 
Newman say has its seat-in the human soul, be clear 
without his aid, why did he write a syllable about it? If, 
as you say, its utterances were not recognized, and that 
his statements have first made them familiar to you, 


BOOK-REVELATION. 87 


the same argument (the Christian will say) will do for 
the Bible. It is of little use that nature teaches you, if 
Mr. Newman is to teach nature.” 

Fellowes was silent; and, after a pause, Harrington 
resumed ; he could not resist the temptation of saying, 
with playful malice, — : 

“Perhaps you are in doubt whether to say that the 
internal revelation which you possess does teach you 
clearly or darkly. It isa pity that nature so teaches 
as to leave you in doubt till some one else teaches you 
what she does teach you. She must be like some 
ladies, who keep school indeed, but have accomplished 
masters to teach every thing. Shall we call Mr. New- 
man the Professor of ‘ Spiritual Insight’? Would it 
not be advisable, if you are in any uncertainty, to write 
to him to ask whether the internal truths which no ex- 
ternal revelation can impart be articulate or not; or 
whether, though a book from God could not make them 
plainer, you are at liberty to say that a book of Mr. 
Newman’s will? It is undoubtedly a subtile question 
for him to decide for you; namely, what is the condi- 
tion of your own consciousness? But I really see no 
help for it, after what you have granted; nor, without 
his aid, do I see whether you can truly affirm that you 
have an internal revelation, independently of him or not 
And whichever way he decides, I am afraid lest he 
should prove both himself and you very much in the 
wrong. If he decides for you, that your internal reve- 
lation must and did anticipate any thing he might 
write, and that it was perfectly articulate, as well as 
inarticulately present to your ‘insight’ before, it will be 
difficult to determine why he should have written at 
all; he would also prove, not only how superfluous 1s 
your gratitude, but that he understands your own con- 
sciousness better than you do. If he decides it the 


88 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


other way, and says you had a ‘revelation’ before he 
revealed it, yet that he made it utter articulate lan- 
guage, and interpreted its hieroglyphics, — then it once 
more seems very strange that either you or he should 
contend that a ‘book-revelation’ is impossible, since 
Mr. Newman has produced it. If, however, he decides 
in the first of these two ways, I fear, my good friend, 
that we shall fall into another paradox worse than all, 
for it will prove that the ‘internal revelation’ which 
you possess is better known to Mr. Newman than to 
yourself, which will be a perfectly worthy conclusion of 
all this embarras. It would be surely droll for you to 
affirm that you possess an internal revelation which 
renders all ‘ external revelation’ impossible, but yet that 
its distinctness is unperceived by yourself, and awaits 
the assurance of an external authority, which at the 
same time declares all ‘external revelation’ impossi- 
say begage 

“ There is still another word,” said Fellowes, “ which 
you forget that Mr. Newman employs; he says that 
an authoritative book-revelation of moral and spiritual 
truth is impossible.” 

“Why,” said Harrington, laughing, “ while you were 
without the truth, as you say you were, it was not: 
likely to be authoritative: if, when you have it, it is 
recognized as authoritative, which you say is the case 
with the truth you have got from Mr. Newman,—if 
you acknowledge that it ought to have authority as 
soon as known, — that is all (so far as I know) that is 
contended for in the case of the Bible. If you mean 
by ‘authoritative’ a revelation which not only ought 
to be, but which ¢s so, I think mankind make it 
pretty plain that neither the ‘external’ nor the ‘in- 
ternal’ revelation is particularly authoritative. In 
short,” he concluded “I do not see how we can 


BOOK-REVELATION. 89 


doubt, on the principles on which Mr. Newman acts 
and yet denies, that a book-revelation of moral and 
spiritual truth is very possible; and if given, would be 
signally useful to mankind in general. If Mr. New- 
man, as you admit, has written a book which has put 
you in possession of moral and spiritual truth, surely it 
may be modestly contended that God might dictate a 
better. Hither you were in possession of the truths in 
question before he announced them, or you were not ; 
if not, Mr. Newman is your infinite benefactor, and 
God may ve at least as great a one; if you were, then 
Mr. Newman, like Job’s comforters, ‘has plentifully 
declared the thing as it is’ If you say, that you were 
in possession of them, but only by implication; that 
you did not see them clearly or vividly till they were 
propounded, —that is, that you saw them, only practi- 
cally you were blind, and knew them, only you were 
virtually ignorant; still, whatever Mr. Newman does 
(and it amounts, in fact, to revelation), that may the 
Bible also do. If even that be not possible, and man 
naturally possesses these truths explicitly, as well as im- 
plicitly, then, indeed, the Bible is an impertinence, — 
and so is Mr. Newman.” 

After a pause, Harrington suddenly asked, — 

“Do you not think there is some difference between 
yourself and a Hottentot?” 

« I should hope so,” said Fellowes, with a laugh. 

“ But still the Hottentot has all the ‘spiritual facul- 
ties’ of which you speak so much ?” . | 

“ Certainly.” 

“What makes this prodigious difference? — for of 
that, as a fact, we cannot dispute.” 

«“ Different culture and education, I suppose.” 

« This culture and education is a thing external?” 

Tt is.” 

3* 


90 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITU 


“This culture and education, however, must be of 
immense importance indeed, since it makes all the dif 
ference between the having or the not having, prac- 
tically, any just religious notions, or sentiments, or 
practices, (even in your estimation,) whatever our in- 
ternal revelation.” 

“ But still I hold, with Mr. Parker, that the ‘ absolute 
religion’ is the same in all men. The difference is in 
circumstantials only, as Mr. Parker says.” 

“ When it serves his turn,” said Harrington ; “and he 
says the contrary, when i¢ serves his turn; then the de- 
praved forms of religion are hideous enough: when he 
wishes to commend his ‘ absolute religion, they merely 
differ in circumstantials. Circumstantials! I have hard- 
ly patience to hear these degrading apologies for all that 
is most degrading in humanity. If the ‘ absolute relig- 
ion,’ as he vaguely calls it, be present in these systems 
of gross ignorance and unspeakable pollution, it is so 
incrusted and buried that it is indiscernible and worth- 
less. Rightly, therefore, have you expressed a hope 
that there is a ‘ prodigious difference’ between you and 
a Hottentot. You adhere to that, I presume.” 

“ Of course I shall, said Fellowes. 

“Well, let us see. Would you think, if you were 
turned into a Hottentot to-morrow, you had a religion 
worthy of the name, or not?” 

“Tam afraid I should not.” 

“You hope it, you mean. Well, then, it appears 
that culture and education do somehow make all the 
difference between a man’s having a religion worthy 
of the name, and the contrary ?” 

“Tmust admit it, for I cannot deny it in point of 
fact.” 

“And you also admit that, in nine hundred and 
ninety-nine cases out of a thousand, or ina much larger 


BOOK-REVELATION. 91 


proportion, taking all the nations of the world since 
time began, the said culture and education have been _ 
wanting, or ineflably bad?” 

‘emves.? 

“ So that there have been very few, in point of fact, 
who have attained that ‘spiritual’ religion for which 
you and our spiritualists contend; and those few 
chiefly, as Mr. Newman admits, amongst Jews and 
Christians, though they too have had their most griev- 
ous errors, which have deplorably obscured it?” 

as (te 

«“ It appears, then, I think, that if we allow that the 
internal revelation without a most happy external cul- 
ture and development will not form any religion at all 
worthy of the name, and that that happy culture and 
development (from whatsoever cause) are not the con- 
dition of our race, —it appears, I say, rather odd to 
affirm that any divine aid in this absolutely necessary 
external education of humanity is not only superfluous, 
but impossible.” 

Another pause ensued, when Harrington again said, 
“ You will think me very pertinacious, perhaps, but I 
must say that, in my judgment, Mr. Newman’s theory 
of progressive religion (for he also admits a doctrine of 
progress) favors the same sceptical doubts as to the 
impossibility of a book-revelation. You do not deny, | 
suppose, that he does think the world needs enlight- 
ening?” 

“Had he not believed that, he would not have 
written.” 

“T suppose not. However, how the world should 
need it, if your principles be true, and every man brings 
into the world his own particular lantern, —‘ Enter 
Moonshine’ —I1 do not quite understand; or, if it is 
in need of such illumination notwithstanding, why it 


92 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


should not be possible for an external revelation to 
supply it still better than your illuminati, I am equally 
unable to understand. But let that pass. Mr. New- 
man concludes that the world does stand in need of 
this illumination, and that it has had it at various 
times. It is his opinion, is it not, that men began by 
being polytheists and idolaters ? ” 

“It is so; and surely all history bears out the 
theory.” 

“ Many doubt it. I will not venture to give any 
opinion, except that there are inexplicable difficulties, 
as usual, on both sides. Just now I am quite willing 
to take his statement for granted, and suppose that man 
in the infancy of his race was, in spite of the aid of 
his very peculiar illumination, — which seems to have 
‘rayed out darkness, — as very a Troglodyte in civili- 
zation and religion as you (for the special glory of his 
Creator, I suppose, and the honor of your species) can 
wish him to have been. Well, man began by being a 
polytheist, and very gradually emerged out of that 
pleasant condition — or rather an infinitesimal portion 
of the race has emerged out of it, into the better forms 
of idolatry — (poor wretch !), and from thence to mon- 
otheism ; that, in short, his polytheism is not the cor- 
ruption of his monotheism, but his monotheism an 
elevation of his polytheism. Yet it is, after all, a 
cheerless ‘ progress,’ which often ‘advances backward,’ 
Mr. Newman says that ‘the law of God’s moral uni- 
verse, as known to us, is that of progress ; that we trace 
it from old barbarism to the methodized Egyptian idol- 
atry, to the more flexible polytheism of Syria and 
Greece,’ and so forth; and so in Palestine, from the 
‘image-worship in Jacob’s family to the rise of spirit- 
ual sentiment under David, and Hezekiah’s prophets,’ * 


— 


* Phases, p. 223. 


BOOK-REVELATION. 93 


Yet he also tells us, ‘ Ceremonialism more and more 
incrusted the restored nation, and Jesus was needed to 
spur and stab the consciences of his contemporaries, 
and recall them to more spiritual perceptions.” Well, 
thus came Christ to ‘stab and spur’; and faith, I think 
‘stab and spur’ were again needed by the end of the 
third century. Successive reformers are needed to ‘stab 
and spur’ the thick hide of humanity, without which it 
will not, it seems, go forward, but perversely go back- 
ward; and even with this perpetual application of the 
goad of some spiritual mohoul, man crawls on at an 
intolerably slow pace. However, ‘stab’ and ‘spur’ are 
needed, which is all [am now intent upon.” 

“ Yes; but each of those great souls who have 
stimulated the dull mind of ordinary humanity derived 
from its own internal illumination that spiritual light 
which they have communicated to the rest of man- 
kind!” 

“ For themselves, perhaps, my friend,’ said Harring- 
ton, “and if they had kept it to themselves in many 
instances, probably the world would have been no 
loser. That they had it from within, is true, — if your 
theory is true. But to others, to the bulk of mankind, 
they have imparted this light; it has been to mankind 
an ‘external revelation’; it is from without, not from 
within, that this light has been received, and that the 
boasted ‘progress’ of the race has been secured. It 
remains, therefore, only for your Christian opponent to 
ask, how it should be impossible that mankind should be 
indebted to an external revelation by God, when it is 
plain that they are indebted for the like from man! and 
whether it is not conceivable that, if Moses and Soc- 
rates and Paul could do so mach for them, God could 
do a trifle more? ‘You will say, perhaps, on the old 
plea, that these profounder spirits only made articulate 


94 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


that whick already existed inarticulately in the hearts 
of those whom they addressed; that they only chafed 
into life the marble statue of Pygmalion, — the dor- 
mant principles aad sentiments which had a home in 
the human heart before, only they were unluckily 
treated as strangers. Well; the same thing may the 
apologist for the Bible say, —merely adding, perhaps 
that it does more effectually the business of thus awa- 
kening ‘dormant’ powers, and giving a substantive 
form to the shadowy conceptions of mankind. But it 
is still, in either case, to the bulk of the world an 
external revelation, an outward aid which gives them 
the actual conscious possession of spiritual light, and 
secures the vaunted progress of humanity. Such are 
some of my difficulties respecting your theory of the 
impossibility and inutility of any and all external reve- 
lations. 1 must, in candor, say that our discussion has 
left them where they were.” 

“ ‘There is one thing,” he added, “ about your system 
which I acknowledge would be consolatory to me if 
it were but true. If man be really in possession of an 
internal and universal revelation of moral and spiritual 
truth, you neither can nor need take any trouble to 
enlighten and convert him. It relieves one of all super- 
fluous anxiety on that score.” 

“ Pardon me,” said Fellowes, “it is Mr. Newman’s 
spiritual theory alone which does allow the prospect of 
success to any such efforts. As he truly says, when 
the spiritual champion has thrown off the burden of an 
historical Christianity, he advances, as lightly equipped 
as Priestley himself. I should say much more lightly. 
‘What, says he, ‘may we now expect from the true 
theologian when he attacks sin, and vice, and gross un- 
spirituality 7?’ ‘The weapon he uses, to employ Mr. 
Newman’s own language, ‘is as lightning from God, 


BOOK-REVELATION. G5 


kindled from the spirit within him, and piercing through 
the unbeliever’s soul, convincing his conscience of sin, 
and striking him to the ground before God; until those 
who believe receive it not as the word of man, but as 
what it is, in truth, the word of God. Its action is 
directly upon the conscience and upon the soul, and 
hence its wonderful results ; not on the critical faculties, 
upon which the spirit is powerless.’* Again, he says 
that such a preacher ‘will have plenty to say, alike to 
the vulgar and to the philosophers, appreciable by the 
soul” Hear him again: ‘Then he may speak with 
confidence of what he knows and feels; and call on 
his hearers of themselves to try and prove his words, 
Then the conversion of men to the love of God may 
take place by hundreds and thousands, as in some former 
instances. ‘Then, at length, some hope may dawn that 
Mohammedans and Hindoos may be joined in one fold 
with us, under one Shepherd, who will only have re- 
gained his older name of the Lord God.” + 

“ By all the gods and goddesses of all the nations,” 
said Harrington, “ I cannot understand it. How man- 
kind should need such teaching, if your theory be truc; 
how, if they need it, it is possible that you should give 
it, if, all external revelation of moral and spiritual truth 
be impossible ; how, if it 7s impossible, it should be im- 
possible for a God, by a Bible, to give the like; how 
you can get at the souls of people at all except through 
the intervention of the senses and the intellect, — the 
latter of which you say has nothing to do with the 
‘soul, and surely the former can have as little; or how, 
if you can get at them by this intervention, it is im- 
possible that a Bible should,—is all to me a mystery. 
But let that pass- If your last account be true, one 


* Soul, p. 244. t Soul, p. 258. 


| 


96 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


thing is clear; that a splendid career is open to you 
and your friends. You can immediately employ this 
irresistible ‘weapon’ for the verification of your views 
and the conversion of the human race. You can re- 
new, or rather realize, the triumphs of early Christian- 
ity ;— I say realize, for you and Mr. Newman believe 
them to be, for the most part, fabulous, and that it was 
the army of Constantine that conquered the Empire for 
Christianity ; but you can turn such fables into truths. 
Surely the least you can do is to be off as a mission- 
ary to China or India. Go to Constantinople, my dear 
fellow, and take the Great Turk by the beard. Nor can 
Mr. Newman do less than repair to Bagdad, upon a 
second and more hopeful mission. You will let me 
know when you have demolished Mohammedanism, 
and got fairly into Thibet. Alexander’s career will be 
nothing to it. But alas! I fear it will be only another 
variety of that impossible thing, — a book-revelation!” 

“ Nay,” said Fellowes, “we must first finish our mis- 
sion at home, and try our weapons upon you and such 
as you. We must subdue such as you first.” 

“Then you will never go,” said Harrington. 

“ Never mind,” I said, “ Mr. Fellowes; Harrington is 
very mischievous to-day. But,as he said he would not 
contest the ground of your dictum, that a book-revela- 
tion of moral and spiritual, truth is impossible, so he 
has not entered into it. Will you let me, on some 
future day, reac to you a brief paper upon it? I have 
no skill—or but little—in that erotetic method of 
which Harrington is so fond.” He assented, and here 
this long conversation ended. 


July 7. Harrington and I spent a portion of this 
morning alone fellowes was gone out for a day or two), 


| 
| 
| 


A SCEPTIC’S FAVORITE TOPICS. 97 


conversing on various subjects. I hardly know how it 
was, but I felt a strong reluctance to enter with for- 
mality on that one which yet lay nearest my heart, — 
whether from the fear lest I should do more harm than 
good; lest controversy should, as so often happens, in- 
durate rather than soften the heart: or perhaps I had 
some secret distrust of my own temper or his. Yet, 
if I felt any thing of the last, J am sure I did him injus- 
tice; and (I hope) myself. Be it as it may, I thought 
it better just to exchange a shot now and then, — some- 
times it was a red-hot shot too on both sides, —as we 
passed and repassed, in the current of conversation, than 
come to a regular set-to, yard-arm to yard-arm. From 
whatever cause, he gave me abundant opportunity of 
recurring to the subject, for he was perpetually, and I 
believe unconsciously, leading the conversation towards 
it; not, I think, from confidence in his logical prowess, 
but from the restlessness in which (he did not pretend 
to disguise it) his state of scepticism had plunged him. 
It was curious, indeed, to see how every thing, sooner 
or later, fell into one channel. For example, I hap- 
pened to remark, that a cottage in the valley which we 
saw from his library window would make a pretty ob- 
ject in a picture, —it was the only sign of life in the 
little valley. “ I should like the view itself all the better 
without it,” said he. I observed that a painter would 
feel very differently ; and if there were no such object, 
he would be sure to put one in. “QO, certainly,” he 
replied, “ a painter would, and justly ; there is no doubt 
that the shadow of animated existence is very admirable ; 
a picture, I admit, is wonderfully more picturesque 
with such a picture of life; especially as the painter can 
and does remove every thing offensive to his fastidious 
art, He is very apt to regard the objects in his land- 
scapes much as a poet does a cottage, according to 
9 


98 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


Cowper’s confession. ‘ By a cottage,’ says he to Lady 
Hesketh, ‘you must always understand, my dear, that 
a poet means a house with six sashes in front, two 
comfortable parlors, a smart staircase, and three bed- 
rooms of convenient dimensions. As I have looked 
sometimes down a mountain glen, and seen the most 
picturesque huts upon its sides, I have thought how 
little the painter could dispense with them. But, then, 
how easily the philosopher can: for, alas! I have taken 
wing from my station, and looked in through the miser- 
able casement, and seen, not only what is disgusting to 
the senses, — which is a small matter, — but ignorance, 
and disease, and fear, and guilt, and racking pain, and 
doubt, and death; and I have not been able to help 
saying, in pity, ‘O for absolute solitude! — how much 
nature would be improved if the human race were 
annihilated!’ ” 

“ ‘lhe human race,” said I, laughing, “is very much 
obliged to the pity which would thus exterminate them; 
but as one of them, I should decidedly object to so 
sweeping a mode of improving the picturesque. Be- 
sides, I suppose you make an exception in favor of 
yourself, otherwise the picturesque would vanish just 
when it was brought to perfection. I am often in- 
clined to say with Paley, though I remember well hay- 
ing sometimes felt as you do, ‘It is a happy world, 
after all’ I admit, however, that a buoyant, cheerful, 
habitual conviction of this will depend on the consti- 
tution of the mind, and even vary with the same mind 
in its different moods. But I am sure it may be a 
really happy world, whatever its sorrows, to any one 
who will view it as he ought.” 

“J wish you could teach me the art.” 

“Tt is,” said I, “to exercise the faith and the hope 
of a Christian, humbly to regard this life as what it 


A SCEPTIC’S FAVORITE TOPICS. 99 


is, —a scene of discipline and schooling, a pilgrimage 
to a better. It is an old remedy, but it has been often 
tried; and to millions of our race has made this world 
more than tolerable, and death tranquil, nay, trium- 
phant. Do you remember Schiller’s ‘ Walk among the 
Linden-T'rees’ ?” 

“ Perfectly well.” 

“ Do you not remember how the two youths differ in 
their estimate of the beautiful in nature? ‘Is it pos- 
sible” says Edwin, ‘you can thus turn from the cup of 
joy, sparkling and overflowing as it is?’ —‘ Yes,’ said 
Wollmar, ‘when one finds a spider in it; and why 
not? In your eyes, to be sure, Nature decks Htetselk out 
like a rosy-cheeked maiden on her bridal day. ‘To me 
she appears an old, withered beldame, with sunken 
eyes, furrowed cheeks, and artificial ornaments in her 
hair. How she seems to admire herself in this her Sun- 
day finery! But it is the same worn and ancient gar- 
ment, put off and on some hundreds of aiousande of 
times’ But how natural is the explanation of all given 
_at the beautiful close of the dialogue! ‘ Here,’ said the 
jocund Edwin, ‘I first met my Jolene ‘And it was 
under these linden-trees, says Wollmar, ‘that I lost 
my Laura’ It was their mood of mind, and not the 
outward world, that made all the difference. All nature, 
innocent thing! must consent to take her hue from it. 
You have, I fear, lost your Laura,” — simply alluding 
to his early faith; “or shall I suppose, from your pres- 
ent mood, that you have just met with your Juliet?” 
I spoke, of course, of his philosophy. 

He was looking out of the window; but on my turn- 
ing my gaze towards him, I saw such a look of peculiar 
Siguisll that I felt I had inadvertently touched a ter- 
rible chord indeed. I turned the conversation hastily, 
by remarking (almost without thinking of what I said) 


100 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


en the beautiful contrast between the light blue of the 
sky and the green of the lawn and trees; and proceed- 
ed to remark on the degree in which the mere organic 
or sensational pleasures of vision formed an ingredient 
in the pleasurable associations of the complex “ beau- 
tiful.” 

He gradually resumed conversation; and we dis- 
cussed the subject of the “beautiful” for some time. 
Yet I know not how it was, nor can I trace the steps 
by which we deviated, — only that Rousseau’s summer- 
day dreams on the Lake of Bienne was a link in the 
chain,— we somehow soon found ourselves on the 
brink of the great controversy respecting the “ Origin 
of Evil.” “Ihave read many books on that subject,” 
said I; “but I intend to read no more; and I should 
think you have had enough of them.” 

“ Why, yes,” said he, laughing; “whatever philoso- 
phers may have thought of the origin of evil, it is a 
great aggravation of it to read their speculations. The 
best thing I know on the subject —and it exhausts it 
— is half a dozen lines in ‘ Robinson Crusoe. ” 

* Robinson Crusoe!” said I. 

“ Certainly,” he replied; “do you not remember that 
when he caught his man Friday, the ‘intuitional con- 
sciousness’ — the ‘insight’ —the ‘inward revelation’ 
of that worthy savage not being found quite so perfect 
as Mr. Parker would fancy, Robinson proceeds to in- 
doctrinate him in the mysteries of theology ? Friday 
is much puzzled, as many more learned savages have 
been before him, to find that the infinite power, wis- 
dom, and goodness of God had made every thing very 
good, and that good it would have continued had it 
not been for the opposition of the Devil. « Why God 
not kill Debbil?’ asks poor Friday. On which says 
Robinson, ‘ Though I was a very old man, I found that 


UNSTABLE EQUILIBRIUM. 101 


I was but a young doctor in divinity” Ah! if all doc- 
tors in divinity had been equally candid, the treatises 
on that dread subject would not have been quite so 
voluminous; for we close them all alike with the un- 
availing question, ‘ Why God not kill Debbil ?’” 

Observing this tendency to gravitate towards the 
abyss, I at last said to him, “I think, if I were you, 
having decided that there is no religious truth to be 
found, I should dismiss the subject from my thoughts 
altogether. Do as the Indian did, who struggled as 
long as he could to right his canoe when he found he 
was in the stream of Niagara; but, finding his efforts 
unavailing, sat himself down with his arms folded, and 
went down the falls without stirring a muscle. Let us 
talk no more on the subject. Why should you perplex 
yourself, as you apparently do, about a thing so hope- 
less to be found out as truth? ‘ What is truth?’ said 
Pilate; and, as Bacon says, ‘he would not wait for 
an answer. It was a question to which, most proba- 
bly, he, like you, thought no answer could be given. 
If I were you, I should do the same. Why perplex 
yourself to no purpose ?” 

“JT should answer,” said he, “as Solon did when 
asked why he grieved for his son, seeing all grief was 
unavailing. ‘It is for that very reason that I grieve, 
was the reply. And in like manner I dwell on the 
impossibility of discovering truth because it is impos- 
sible.” 

I acknowledged that it was a sufficient reason, and 
that it went to account in some degree for a fact I 
had remarked in the few sceptics I had come across, — 
genuine or otherwise, — that they seemed less capable 
of reposing in their professed convictions than any one 
else: it is of no avail, they say, to reason on such sub- 
jects; and yet they are perpetually reasoning! ‘They 

9g * 


102 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


will neither rest themselves nor let any one else rest. 
He confessed it, and said, “'The state of mind is very 
much as you have described it; and you have described 
it so exactly, that I almost think you, my dear uncle, 
must know the heart of a sceptic, and have been one 
yourself some time or other!” 

We wound up the morning, which was beautiful, by 
taking a ride, in the course of which I was amused 
with an instance of the sensitiveness with which Har- 
rington’s cultivated mind recoiled from the grossness of 
vulgar and ignorant infidelity. We called at the cot- 
tage of a little farmer, a tenant of his, somewhat noto- 
rious both for profanity and sensuality. Presuming, 
I suppose, on his young landlord’s suspected hetero- 
doxy, and thinking, perhaps, to curry. favor with him, 
he ventured (I know not what led to it) to indulge in 
some stupid joke about the legion and the herd of 
swine. “ Sir,’ said he, scratching his head, “the Devil, 
I reckon, must have been a more clever fellow than I 
thought, to make two thousand hogs go down a steep 
place into the sea; it is hard enough even to make 
them go where they will, and almost impossible to 
make them go where they won’t.” 

“ The Devil, my good friend,” said Harrington, very 
gravely, “is a very clever fellow; and I hope you do 
not for a moment intend to. compare yourself with him. 
As to the supposed miracle, it would, no doubt, be 
hard to say which were most to be pitied, the devils in 
the swine, or the swine with the devils in them; but 
has it never struck you that the whole may be an alle- 
gorical representation of the miserable and destructive 
effects of the wnion of the two vices of sensuality and 
profanity? hey also (if all tales be true) lead to a 
steep place, but I have never heard that it ends in the 
water. Now,” he continued, “I dare say you would 


A SCEPTIC’S FIRST CATECHISM. 103 


laugh at that story which the Roman Catholics tell of 
St. Anteny; namely, that ‘he preached to the pigs’! 
—yet it has had a very sound allegorical interpreta- 
tion; we are told that it meant merely that he preached 
to country farmers; which, you see, is no more than | 
have been doing.” 

It was one of the many things which made me a 
sceptic as to whether he was one. “ Harrington,” said 
I, “at times I find it impossible to believe that you 
doubt the truth of Christianity.” 

“ Suppose I were to answer, that at times I doubt 
whether I doubt it or not, would not that be a thorough 
sceptic’s answer?” I admitted that it would be in- 
deed. 


July 8. TI was already in the library, writing, when 
Harrington came in to breakfast. “ You seem busy 
early,” said he. I told him I was merely endeavoring 
to manifest my love for his future children. 

“ You know,” said J, “what Isocrates says, that it 
is right that children, as they inherit the other pos- 
sessions, should also inherit the friendships of their 
fathers.” 

“ My children!” said he, very gravely; “I shall never 
have any.” 

“*O, yes, you will, and then these sullen vapors of 
doubt will roll off before the sunlight of domestic hap- 
piness. It will allure you to love Him who has g*ven 
-you so much to love. Yes,” said I, gayly, “I shall visit 
you one day in happier moods; when you will wonder 
how you could have indulged all your present thoughts 
- of God and the universe. As you gaze into the face 
of innocent childhood, which shows you what faith in 
God is by trust in you, you will say, ‘ Heaven shield 


104 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


the boy from being what his father has been?’— you 
will feel that such thoughts as yours will not do, as 
the world says; and we shall all go together, you with 
your wife on your arm, to church there in the valley, 
in the bright sun and deep quiet of a Sabbath morn- 
ing, and amidst the music of the Sabbath bells; and 
as the tranquil scene steals into your very soul, you 
will say, ‘ No, scepticism was not made for man.’ ” 

“It is a pleasant romance,” he replied, gloomily, 
“and nothing more. I shall never love, and shall there- 
fore never wed; though, I suppose, that does not logi- 
cally follow. However, it does with me; and, conse- 
quently, I presume the children are also only in posse. 
However, what is this instance of your kindness to 
my possible children?” he added, more cheerfully. 

“I was endeavoring,” said I, “on the bare possibil- 
ity of your retaining as a father all the feelings you 
seem to entertain at present, to compile for your chil- 
dren (as they must be taught something, and you 
would wish them, as you say, to know the truth) a 
short catechism. I think the questions in Watts’s First 
Catechism might do for the poor little souls. The an- 
swers (as usual) might not be wholly intelligible till 
they got older, but still might awaken some notion 
which in time might ripen into confirmed scepticism.” 

“ Well,” said he, laughing, “let me hear what sort of 
‘religious’ instruction you have provided.” 

“T had only finished one question,” I replied, “ when 
you came in: but I almost think it may be considered 
a ‘Summa Theologie’ of itself. It is this: — 

“<¢Can you tell me, child, who made you ?? 

“*]T cannot, certainly, tell who made me; neither 
can my father; but from the continual misery, confu- 
sion, and doubt which I feel in myself and see around 
me,’—here the little pupil is to be cautioned not to 


SOME LIGHT ON THE MYSTERY. 105 


laugh; the mirth in the eye, perhaps, cannot be extin- 
guished, —‘I am led to doubt whether I was made by 
one who cares for me or takes any interest in me.’ 
(Good child.)” 

As I looked up, after reading this first truth of scep- 
tical theology, I observed in Harrington’s face some- 
thing of the same look of sorrow which I had noted the 
day before. Suddenly he said, as if to prevent any 
chance recurrence to painful topics : — 

“T very gradually became a doubter. I was perhaps 
becoming so when, two years ago, I became an idolater, 
and my idol crumbled to pieces at my feet. ‘That tran- 
sient vision of the beautiful half reclaimed me from my 
doubts; the darkness of the succeeding night taught 
me juster views of the miseries of man and the incom- 
prehensible riddle of his existence; and I half blushed 
at my glimpse of selfish happiness.” 

So saying, he suddenly left the room. Some part of 
the mystery I felt was unravelled. Alas! the logic of 
the head, — how fatally fortified by the logic of the 
heart! And so, thought I to myself, even Harrington 
too is in part the dupe of that cunning spirit of delusion 
which in various forms is resolved to cast God and a 
Redeemer and A out of the universe, in com- 
pliment to man’s wonderful elevation, purity, unselfish- 
ness, and philanthropy! One man tells me, with Shaftes- 
bury, that he does not want any ‘immortal hopes,” 
or any such “bribes” of “ prudence” to make him vir- 
tuous or religious, — delicate, noble-minded creature! 
that he can serve and love God equally well, though he 
were sure of being annihilated to-morrow morning! 
Another declares that he would not accept heaven itself 
tf purchased by a single pang, voluntary or involuntary, 
endured by any other being in God’s universe? Anoth- 
er swears that such is his sympathetic benevolence, that 


106 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


he “would not accept that same heaven if he thought 
any other being was to be shut out of it”; I wonder 
whether he condescends to accept any blessing now, 
while a single fellow-creature remains destitute of it? 
A fourth (a lady too) declares “there is no theory of a 
God, of an author of nature, of an origin of the universe, 
which is not utterly repugnant to her faculties, which is 
not (to her feelings) so irreverent as to make her blush, 
so misleading as to make her mourn”; and now Har- 
rington, instead of being thankful for his glimpse of 
happiness, and yielding to the better instincts and con- 
victions it partly awakened, and learning patience, sub- 
mission, and faith under his shattered hopes, is taken 
captive on the same weak side; and (all unconscious 
that he shares in the prophet’s feeling, “1 do well to 
be angry ”’) fancies that his present gloom is more truly 
in unison with the condition of the universe, and that 
he is bound to be most philanthropically misanthropical. 
O, well does the-Book say of this heart of ours, 
“ DECEITFUL ABOVE ALL THINGS”! Such are our min- 
gled follies and wickedness, so ludicrous, so sorrowful, 
are the features presented in this great tragi-comedy, 
— ‘Tue tire or Man,—that it is impossible to play 
consistently either Democritus or Heraclitus. 


July 9. Mr. Fellowes returned this morning. We had 
a very pleasant day,— theology being excluded. In 
the evening my companions were again pleased to dis- 
turb my occupations; but it was only a short skirmish. 
Fellowes was endeavoring to enlighten his friend re- 
specting the mysteries of “belief” and “faith,” as 
expounded by some of his favorite writers: he con- 
tended, (making that sheer separation between “the 
intellectual” and “ spiritual,’ which so many of the 


BELIEF AND FAITH. 107 


spiritual school affect,) not only that there may be cor- 
rect belief without true faith, which, in an intelligible 
sense, few will deny; but that there may be a true 
faith with a false belief, or even with none, in the strict 
sense of the word. Referring to a recent acute writer 
in one of our religious periodicals, he argued that be- 
lief is properly an intellectual process, founded on a 
presumed preponderance of reasons or supposed reasons, 
for it; and that whether those reasons amount to dem- 
onstration, or whether the scale be turned by a grain, 
matters not; the product is purely logical, and has no 
more to do with “faith” than a “belief” in any prop- 
osition of Euclid. 

“But, at all events,” he proceeded, “ whether you 
choose to call some of these acts of reason by the name 
of belief or not, faith is something quite independent of 
it. As Mr. Newman says, in his ‘ Phases,’ ‘ Belief is 
one thing and faith another’: ‘ belief is purely intellect- 
ual; faith is properly spiritual. ‘ Nowhere from any 
body of priests, clergy, or ministers, as an order, is re- 
ligious progress to be anticipated till intellectual creeds 
are destroyed’ See, too, how tenderly he speaks even 
of atheism. ‘Ido not know,’ he says, ‘ how to avoid 
calling this a moral error; but I must carefully guard 
against seeming to overlook that it may still be a merely 
speculative error, which ought not to separate our hearts 
from any man. Similarly he charitably restricts ‘ idol- 
atry’ in any ‘bad sense’ to a voluntary worshipping of 
what the worshipper feels not to deserve his adoration ; 
and as J, for one, doubt whether this is ever the case, 
this delightful charity is comprehensive indeed. Mr. 
Parker’s discourse is full of the same beautiful and tol- 
erant maxims. ‘ Each religious doctrine, he says, ‘ has 
some time stood for a truth...... Each of these forms 
of religion (polytheism and fetichism, to wit) did the. 


108 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


world service in its day. No one form of religion is 
absolutely true; faith may be compatible with them all.” 

“Let me understand you, if possible,” said Har- 
rington; “for at present I fear I do not. That there 
may be belief without faith in a very intelligible sense, 
I can understand. You say there can be faith without 
belief, and a true faith that is connected with any be- 
lief, however erroneous, do you not?” 

“ Provided it contains the absolute religion.” 

“ Well, and even the lowest fetichism does that, ac- 
cording to Mr. Parker, whom you defend. Now this 
Protean faith is what I do not understand.” 

“ That,” said Fellowes, “ I can easily conceive; and, 
let me add, no sceptic can understand it.” 

“J see no reason why he should not,” said Harring- 
ton, laughing, “if, as you and Mr. Newman suppose, 
the ‘spiritual’ can be so perfectly divorced from the 
‘intellectual’ According to your reasoning, the atheist 
and the idolater cannot be incapable of exercising this 
mysterious ‘faith, — when their errors are supposed 
purely speculative, — since faith has nothing to do with 
the intellect; neither therefore ought the sceptic to be 
quite beyond the pale of your charity. Nay, his in- 
tellect being a rasa tabula in these matters, I should 
think he is in more favorable circumstances than they 
can be. But, seriously, let me try, if possible, to fath- 
om this curious dogma,—I beg your pardon, — senti- 
ment, | mean. Belief without faith in an intelligible 
sense (if by this last we mean a condition of the emo- 
tions or affections), I can understand; though if the 
truth believed be of a nature to excite to emotion and 
to dictate action, and fail to do so, I doubt whether men 
in general would not call that belief spurious. For ex- 
ample, if a man, on being told that his house was on 
fire, sat still in his neighbor’s chimney-corner, and took 


BELIEF AND FAITH. 109 


no notice of the matter, most persons would say that 
his assent was no true belief, for it did’ not produce its 
effects, did not produce faith. But whether faith can 
ever exist independently of belief,— whether it is not 
always involved with it, —and whether there can be a 
faith worth a farthing that is not based on a true belief, 
— that is the point on which I want light. If I under- 
stand you, an acceptable faith may or may not coexist 
with a true belief; and men who believe in Jupiter or 
Jehovah, in one God or a thousand, who worship the 
sun, or an idol, or a cat, or a monkey, all may have an 
equally acceptable faith.” 

“YT affirm it.” 

“ That as there may be belief in a truth without faith, 
so there may be faith, though the intellect believes in a 
falsehood ; — that faith, in fact, is independent of know/l- 
edge, or of any particular condition of the intellect ?” 

“ I do not like the terms in which you express the 
sentiment, but I, for one, believe it substantially cor- 
rec 

“Never mind the form; I am quite willing to em- 
ploy other terms, if you will supply them.” 

“ Well, then,” said Fellowes, “ I should say, with Mr. 
Parker, that the principle of true faith may be found to 
coexist with the grossest and most hideous misconcep- 
tions of God, while the absence of it may coexist with 
the truest and most elevated belief.” 

“ That, I think, comes to much the same as I said. 
Now about the latter we have no dispute. It is the 
former that J want light upon: the latter only shows 
that a belief, which ought to be practical, and if not 
practical is nothing, is but a species of hypocrisy ; and, 
of course, [ have nothing to say for it. My uncle here, 
who is still one of the orthodox, who believes that an 


‘acceptable faith’ and a belief in the divinity of a mon- 
10 


110 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


key or a cat are somehow quite incompatible, would be 
among the first to acknowledge the latter position. He 
would say, ‘No doubt there has often been such a 
thing as “dead orthodoxy,” — a creed of the “ letter)’ — 
a religion exclusively dependent on logic, and having 
nothing to do with the feelings ;— belief that is not 
sublimated into faith ; — a system of arteries and veins 
infiltrated with some colored substance, like the speci- 
mens in an anatomical museum, but in which none of 
the lifeblood of religion circulates. But surely) he 
would say, ‘it does not follow, that, because there has 
been belief without faith, there is or can be any faith 
independent of some belief, or an acceptable faith with- 
out a true belief, ” 

“I affirm,” said Fellowes, “ that ‘faith’ has nothing 
to do with the intellect, but is a state of the affections 
exclusively. I affirm, with a recent acute writer, that 
there is, properly speaking, no belief at all that is dis- 
tinguishable from reason. For what is meant by belief 
of a proposition, but the receiving that proposition as 
true upon evidence, from a supposed preponderance of 
reasons in its favor? Now, whether that preponder- 
ance be a ton weight or a single grain, down goes the 
balance, and reason as strictly decides that it is to be 
received as if it were a mathematical demonstration. 
If the arguments, whether abstract or otherwise, abso- 
lutely demonstrative or only probable, are supposed to 
be exactly balanced, there is no reason for deciding in 
favor of one side more than the other; and there is, there- 
fore, no belief, for the very reason that reason cannot 
be exercised.” 

“ Very well indeed,” said Harrington, “so far as it 
goes; but I forthwith see, that, so far from deriving any 
benefit from this ingenious reasoning, there is no such 
thing as either faith or belief: belief and faith have both 


BELIEF AND FAITH. 111 


vanished at the same time; the first is resolved into 
reason, and the second becomes impossible.” 

“ Belief may,” said Fellowes, “ but faith never. Its 
divine beauty is all the brighter, when happily divorced 
from logie and syllogisms, its misalliance with which 
can only be compared to that cruel punishment by 
which the living was chained to the dead. Say what 
you will, it still reigns and triumphs in the soul in spite 
of all.” 

“YT am perfectly convinced,’ said Harrington, “that 
the modern spiritualist will not bring his ‘faith’ into 
any ignominious slavery to intellect or syllogism. But 
clear up my doubts if you can. I know that the writers 
you are fond of quoting very generally give an illustra- 
tion of the nature of faith by pointing to the ingenuous 
trust of a child in the wisdom and kindness of a 
parent.” 

“They do; and is it not a beautiful illustration ? 
That is genuine faith indeed!” 

“Tam willing to take the illustration. The child 
has faith, we see, in his father’s superior wisdom and 
experienced kindness.” 

io Yen” 

“‘ He believes them, therefore.” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ But belief is reason.” 

“ Certainly ; but faith is more than that.” 

“ No doubt; but he does believe these things.” 

“ Yes, certainly.” 

“ And if he did not believe them, he would cease to 
have faith. If, for instance, he be convinced that his 
father is mad, or cruel, or unjust, the state of affec- 
tions which you call faith will diminish, and at last 
cease.” 

“ Perhaps so,” said Fellowes. 


112 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“Perhaps so, my friend! TI really cannot receive 
your answer, because | am convinced that it does not 
express your sentiments.” 

« Well, I believe that the state of affection which we 
call ‘faith? would be impossible under such circum- 
stances.” 

“ But belief is reason.” 

Peyies.! 

“ Must we not say, then, that the child’s faith 
depends on the condition of his belief, that is, on his 
reason, so that the ‘faith’ is possible when he believes, 
and so long as he believes, that his father is wise and _ 
kind, but is impossible when he believes, and as soon as 
he believes, the contrary ?” 

“ Yes, I admit that.” 

“It appears, then, that faith in this, — perhaps the 
best illustration that could be selected,—so far from 
being a state of the affections exclusive of the intellect, 
is not exclusive of it, but absolutely dependent on it, 
inasmuch as it is absolutely dependent on belief, and 
that is dependent on reason. It exists in connection 
with it, and is never independent of it. If the contrary 
be affirmed, I doubt whether there can be any such 
thing as ‘faith’ in the world. Belief becomes reason, 
and faith, having nothing, you say, to do with the 
intellect, becomes impossible. But now let it be sup- 
posed (as, indeed, I cannot but suppose) that some 
belief, that is, reason, enlightened or not (generally the 
last), is involved in every act of faith; you yet affirm 
most distinctly that it is a state of the affections quite 
unconnected with the truth or falsehood of any intel- 
Jectual propositions.” 

Teth0.” 

“It ought to follow, then, that it matters not what is 
the object of belief, provided there is ‘faith’; and this, 


BELIEF AND FAITH. 113 


if you observe, is very much what the language of 
Mr. Newman would imply, while it is the very essence 
of Mr. Parker’s teaching.” 

“ You mean Father Newman, perhaps?” 

“Why no, I did not; but, to tell you the truth, I 
now mean either; there not appearing to me much dif- 
ference between them in this respect. Whether you 
worship an image of a ‘ winking virgin,’ or, according to 
the other Dromio, the ‘ ideal’ of an idolater, — whether 
(provided always it be with sincerity and trust!) you 
adore the Jehovah of the Hebrews, or ‘the image 
which fell down from Jupiter’ ought to make, upon 
this theory, no great difference.” 

“ Well, in whatever difhculty the controversy may 
involve us, can we deny this conclusion ?” 

“Truly,” replied Harrington, “I think it does not 
involve me in any difficulty ; it shows me that, if ¢his be 
the ‘faith’ to which you attach so much importance, it 
really is not worth the powder and shot that must be 
expended in the controversy. For my own part, I do 
not hesitate to say that I would rather be absolutely 
destitute of ‘faith’ altogether, than exercise the most 
absolute faith ever bestowed upon a tawdry image of 
the Virgin, or some misshapen beast of an idol of Hin- 
doo or Hottentot workmanship.” 

« Ah! my friend,” cried Fellowes, “do not thus blas- 
pheme the most holy feelings of humanity, however 
misapplied!” | 

* I do not conceive that I do, in declaring abhorrence 
and contempt of such perversions of ‘ sentiment,’ however 
‘holy’ you may call them. Hideous as they are, how- 
ever, they are less hideous than the half-length apologies 
- for them on the part of cultivated and civilized human 
beings, like our ‘spiritual’ infidels. Your tenderness is 
ludicrously misplaced. JI wonder whether the same 

10 * 


114 - THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


apology would extend to those exercises of simple- 
minded ‘faith’ in which it is said that the Spanish 
and Portuguese pirates sometimes indulgéd, when they 
implored the benediction of their saints on their preda- 
tory expeditions! And yet I see not how it could be 
avoided ; for the exorbitancies of these pirates were not 
more hateful to humanity than are the rites practised, 
and the duties enjoined, by many forms of religion. 
What delightful, ingenuous ‘faith’ and genuine ‘ sim- 
plicity’ of mind did these pirates manifest!” 

“ How can you talk so, when we make it a mark of a 
false revelation, that it contradicts any intuition of our 
moral nature ?” 

“ ‘Then cease to talk of your ‘ absolute religion, as ca- 
pable in any way of consecrating the hateful forms of 
false and cruel superstition for which you and Mr. Par- 
ker condescend to be the apologists. The fanaticism of 
such pious and devout beasts as those saint-loving pi- 
rates is not a more flagrant violation of the principles of 
morality, than the acts which flow directly as the imme- 
diate and natural expression of the infinitely varied but 
all-polluting forms of idolatry with which you are pleased 
to identify your ‘absolute religion, and in all of which 
you suppose an acceptable ‘ faith’ to be very possible. 
You see how Mr. Parker extends the apology to the 
foulest acts of his Tartar and Calmuck scoundrels; acts 
called murders in the codes of Christendom and civiliza- 
tion, but varnished over by the beautiful ‘faith’ which 
somehow still lurks under the most frightful practices 
of a simple-minded barbarian. If this faith will shelter 
the abominations of a gross idolatry, I see not what else 
it may not sanctify. — But, in fact, neither in the case 
of idolaters, nor any other religionists, is it true that 
‘faith’ is independent of ‘belief’; in the case of your 
Calmuck, for example, the ‘belief’ is vile, and there- 


BELIEF AND FAITH. 115 


fore the ‘faith’ vile too; faith practical enough, cer- 
tainly, but one that as certainly does rot ‘work by 
love’; and which, I think, would be well exchanged for 
a dead orthodoxy, or any thing else.” 


It is not difficult to see the source of the fallacy into 
which Mr. Fellowes had fallen. It lies in the attempt to 
make a distinction in fact, as well as in theory, between 
the “intellectual” and “emotional” parts of our nature. 
It is very well for the spiritual and mental analyst to 
consider separately the several principles which con- 
stitute humanity, and which act, and react, and inter- 
act, in endless involution. That there may be acts of 
belief that terminate chiefly in the intellect, and may 
be wholly worthless, who denies? ‘The drunkard, for 
example, may admit that sobriety is a duty; but yet, if 
he gets drunk every night of his life, we shall, of course, 
think little of that act of belief, — of his daily repetition 
of moral orthodoxy. Inthe same manner, a man may 
admit that it is his duty to exercise implicit love, grati- 
tude, and obedience towards the great object of wor- 
ship; but if his habitual conduct shows that he has no 
thought of acting in accordance with this maxim, he 
must be regarded, in spite of the orthodoxy of his spec- 
ulative creed, as no better than a heathen; or worse. 

But though it is very possible that a true belief may 
‘not involve true faith, does the converse follow, — that 
therefore true faith is essentially different from it, and 
independent of it? All history shows, that when re- 
ligion is practical at all,—that is, issues in faith, — 
such faith is as the truth or falsehood believed; the 
emotional and active conditions of the soul are colored, 
as usual, by knowledge and intellect. These, again, are 
not independent of the will and the affections, as we 
all fainiliarly know. And hence the fallacy of suppos- 


116 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


ing that no man is to be thought better or worse for his 
“ intellectual creed.” His “ creed” may be his “ crime” ; 
and surely none ought to see this more clearly than 
the writers who deny it; for why their eternal invec- 
tives against “ dogmas,” — and especially the tolerably 
universal dogma that men are responsible for the for- 
mation of their opinions,—except upon the suppo- 
sition that men are responsible for framing and main- 
taining them? If they are not, men should be left 
alone; if they are, they are to be thought of as “ worse 
and better” for their “ intellectual creed.” 

Before the conclusion of the conversation, Mr. Fel- 
lowes asked me for my opinion. 

“Tf,” said I, “ faith be defined independent of an act 
of intellect, then I think, with our sceptical friend here, 
there can be no such thing at all. For I neither know 
nor can conceive of any such unreasonable exercise of 
the emotions or affections. If it be meant, on the other 
hand, that, though some act of the intellect be indeed 
uniformly involved, yet that it matters not what it is, 
and that faith does not take its complexion, as of moral 
value, from it, then I also think, with Harrington, that 
it is impossible to deny that such a doctrine will sane- 
tify any sort of worship, and any sort of deity, provided 
men be sincere; are you prepared to contend for so 
much ?” 

Mr. Fellowes put an adroit objection here. “ Why,” 
said he, “ you will not deny, surely, that even Seripture 
often commends, as good, a faith which is founded on 
a very imperfect conception of the spiritual realities to 
which it is directed ?” 

“It is ingeniously put, I admit. I grant that there 
are here, as in so many other cases, limits which, 
though it may not be very easy to assign them, as 
plainly exist. But that does not answer my question. 


BELIEF AND FAITH. 117 


I want to know whether the principle is to be applied 
without limits at all, as your speculative theory de- 
mands? In other words, will it or not sanctify acts 
of the most degrading and pernicious idolatry, of the 
most debasing superstition, because allied to that state 
of the affections in which you make the essence of faith. 
consist? If it will not, then your objection to me is 
nothing; it merely asks me to assign limits within 
which the exercise of the affection in question may be 
acceptable, or almost equally acceptable, in cases of a 
partially enlightened understanding. If it will, then it 
leaves you open, as I conceive, and fairly open, to all 
the objections which have been so brusquely urged 
against you by your friend, in whose indignant protest 
against the detestable apologies for the lowest forms 
of religious degradation, in which so many ‘spiritual’ 
writers indulge, I for one heartily sympathize.” 

I ventured to add, tbat the account of “faith” asa 
state of the emotions exclusively, given by some of his 
favorite writers, is perfectly arbitrary. “ Belief,’ say 
they, “is wholly intellectual: faith is wholly moral.” 
Now it would be of very little consequence, if the 
terms be generally so understood, whether they be so 
used or not; men would, in that_case, suppose that 
faith, thus restricted, implies a previous process of mind 
which is to be called exclusively belief. I added, how 
ever, that I did not believe that the word faith was ever 
thus understood in popular use; but that, on the con- 
trary, 16 was employed to imply belief founded on 
knowledge, or supposed knowledge, and, where the be- 
lief was, in its very nature, practical, or involved emo- 
tion, a conduct and a state of the affections correspond- 
ing thereto. “ But this,” said I, “merely respects the 
popular use of the words, and it is hardly worth while 
to prolong discussion on it. As to the reasoning which 
would show that belief does not properly exist at all, 


118 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


because it may be all resolved into reason, founded on 
the preponderance of evidence, where it does not matter 
whether that preponderance be a ton or a scruple,— 
surely it is over-refined. Men will always feel that 
there is a marked difference between the states of mind 
in which they assent to a proposition of which they 
have no more doubt than they have of their own exist- 
ence, or to 4 proposition in the mathematics, and to 
one in which they feel that only a few grains turn the 
scale. ‘To this conscious difference in the condition of 
mind, they have given (and I suppose will continue to 
give) very different names; and though they will not 
say that they believe that two and two make four, but 
that they know it, they will say that they believe that 
they will die before the end of the century, though they 
‘vill not say that they know that. The distinction be- 
tween the certain and the probable is felt to be far too 
important not to be marked by corresponding varieties 
of speech; and speech has made them accordingly.” 


July 10. This morming Harrington fulfilled his prom- 
ise of acquainting me with a few of the principal reasons 
which prevented his taking refuge in the “ half-way 
houses” between the Bible and Religious Scepticism. 
Mr. Fellowes was an attentive listener. Harrington 
had entitled his paper, — 


REASONS FOR DECLINING THE Via MeEpIA BETWEEN 
Reveatep Rexicion anp Araetsm,—or Sceptt- 
CISM; WITH SPECIAL REFERENCE TO THE ‘T'HEORIES 
or Mr. Turopore Parker anp Mr. Francis New- 
MAN. 


I shall be brief; not being solicitious to suggest 
doubts to others, but merely to justify my own. 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 119 


Both Mr. Parker and Mr. Newman make themselves 
very merry with a “book-revelation,” as they call it ; 
and if they had given me any thing better, — more 
rational or more certain than the Bible, — how gladly 
could I have joined in the ridicule! As it is, I doubt 
the solidity of the theories they support, and hardly 
doubt that, if the principles on which they reject the 
Bible be sound, they ought to go much farther. Both 
affirm the absurdity of a special external revelation to 
man; both, that the fountain of spiritual illumination is 
exclusively from within, and not from without. A few 
brief citations will set this point in a clear light. “ Re- 
ligion itself,’ says Mr. Parker, “ must be the same thing 
in each man; not a similar thing, but just the same; 
differing only in degree.”* “ The Idea of God, as a fact 
given in man’s nature, is permanent and alike in all; 
while the sentiment of God, though vague and myste- 
rious, is always the same in itself.” + “ OF course, then, 
there is no difference but of words between revealed 
Religion and natural Religion ; for all actual Religion 
is revealed in us, or it could not be felt.” + The Abso- 
lute Religion, which he affirms to be universally known, 
he defines as “ Voluntary Obedience to the Law of God, 
—inward and outward Obedience to that law he has 
written on our nature, revealed in various ways through 
Instinct, Reason, Conscience, and the Religious Senti- 
ment.” § Similarly, Mr. Newman says, “What God 
reveals to us he reveals within, through the medium of 
our moral and spiritual senses.” ||“ Christianity itself 
has practically confessed, what is theoretically clear,” 
—you must take his word for both, —“ that an authori- 
tative external revelation of moral and spiritual truth 

* Discourses of Matters pertaining to Religion, p- 36. 


t Ibid. p. 21. t Ibid. p. 33. 
§ Ibid. p. 34. | Soul, p. 59. 


120 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


is essentially impossible to man.”* “No book-revela 


tion can (without sapping its own pedestal) authorita 
tively dictate laws of human virtue, or alter our a prt- 
ori view of the Divine character.” + 

“ Happy race of men, one-is ready to exclaim, with 
this Idea of God, one and the same in all; this “ Abso- 
lute Religion,” which is a/so “ universal”; this internal 
revelation, which supersedes, by anticipating, all possible - 
disclosures of an external revelation, and renders it an 
“impertinence.” Men in all ages and nations must 
exhibit a delightful unanimity in their religious notions, 
sentiments, and practices! 

They would do so, cries Mr. Parker; but unhappily, 
though the “idea” of God is “one and the same, and 
perfect” in all “ when the proper conditions” are com- 
plied with, yet practically, in the majority of cases, 
these proper “conditions are not observed”;+ “the 
conception, which men universally form of God, is 
always imperfect, sometimes self-contradictory and im-— 
possible”; “the primitive simplicity and beauty” of 
the “idea” are lost. And thus it is, he tells us, that, 
owing to this awkward “ conception,” the vast majority 
of the human race have been, and are, and for ages will 
be, sunk in the grossest Fetichism, — Polytheism, —and 
every form of absurd and misshapen Monotheism ;— 
the horrors of all which he proceeds faithfully, but not 
too faithfully, to describe, and sometimes, when he is 
in the mood, to soften and extenuate; in order that he 
may find that the “ grim Calmuck,” and even the sav- 
age, “ whose hands are smeared over with the blood of 
human sacrifices,” are yet in possession of the “abso- 
lute Idea” and the “absolute religion.” 

And what must we infer from Mr. Newman? The 


* Soul, p. 59. 4 t Ibid. p. 58. ¢ Discourses, p. 19. 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 2h 


4 


unanimity anticipated would, doubtless, be obtained, 
only that, unfortunately, there are various principles of 
man’s nature which traverse the legitimate action and 
impede the due development of the “ spiritual faculty ” ; 
"and so man is apt to wander into a variety of those 
“ degraded types” of religious development, which the 
dark panorama of this world’s religions has ever pre- 
sented to us, and presents still. “ Awe,” “wonder,” 
“admiration,” “sense of order,” “sense of design,” 
may all mislead the unhappy “spiritual faculty” into 
quagmires; and, in point of fact, have wheedled and 
corrupted it ten thousand times more frequently than 
it has hallowed them. 'This all history, past and present, 
shows. 

It is certainly unfortunate, and as mysterious, that 
those unlucky “ conceptions” of God should have the 
. best of it, —or rather, that the “idea” of God should 
have the worst of it; nor less so that Awe, Reverence, 
and so forth, should thus put the “ spiritual faculty” so 
hopelessly hors de combat. 

Nevertheless, two questions naturally suggest them- 
selves. Since the destructive “conceptions” have al- 
most everywhere impaired the “Idea,’ and the “ de- 
graded types” seduced the “spiritual faculty,’ — 1st. 
What proof have we that man has an original and 
universal fountain of spiritual illumination in himself? 
and 2dly. If he have, but under such circumstances, is 
its utility so unquestionable that no space is left for the 
offices of an external revelation ? 

First. What is the evidence of the uniform exist- 
ence in man of any such definite faculty ? 

When we say that any principle or faculty is com- 
mon to the whole species, do we not make the proof 
of this depend upon the uniformity of the phenomena. 
which exhibit it? When we say, for example, that 

1} 


122 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


hunger and thirst are universal appetites, is it not be- 
cause we find them universal? or if we say that the 
senses of sight and hearing are characteristic of the 
race, do we not contend that these are so, because we 
find them uniform in such an immense variety of in- 
stances, that the exceptions are not worth reckoning ? 
If men sometimes saw black where others saw white, 
some objects rectilinear which others saw curved, some 
objects small which others saw large,— nay, the very 
same men at different times seeing the same objects 
differently colored, and of varying forms and magni- 
tudes, and every second man almost stone-blind inte the 
bargain, — I rather think, that, instead of saying that all 
men were endowed with one and the same power of 
vision, we should say that our nature exhibited only an 
imperfect and rudimentary tendency towards so desira- 
ble a faculty; but that a clear, uniform, well-defined 
faculty of vision there certainly was not. As I gaze 
upon the spectacle of the infinite diversities of religion, 
which variegate, but, alas! do not beautify the world, 
what is there to remind me of that uniformity of result, 
of which I do see the indelible traces in every faculty 
really characteristic of our nature; as, for example, in 
our senses and our appetites? Powerfully does Hume 
urge this argument in his “ Natural History of Relig- 
ions.” * 

. Ihave my doubts—admire the modesty of a sceptic 
—whether the entire phenomena of religion do not 
favor the conclusion, that man, in this respect, exhibits 
only the traces of an imperfect, truncated creature ; that 
he is in the predicament of the half-created lion so 
graphically described by Milton: — 


“ Now half appeared 
The tawny lion, pawing to get free 
His hinder parts”; 


STE aa area mee ae 2 


* Introduction. 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 123 


only, unfortunately, man’s “hinder parts”? — his lower 
nature — have come up first, and appear, unhappily, 
prominent; while his nobler “moral and spiritual fac- 
ulties ” still seem stuck in the dust! 

There is, indeed, another hypothesis, which squares, 
perhaps, equally well with the phenomena, —I mean 
that of the Biste;—that man is no¢ in his original 
state; that the religious constitution of his nature, in 
some way or other, has received a shock. But either 
this, or the supposition that man has been insufficiently 
equipped for the uniform elimination of religious truth, 
is, I think, alone in harmony with the facts; and to 
those facts, patent on the page of the whole world’s 
history, I appeal for proof that man has not, on these 
highest subjects, the certitude of any internal revelation, 
marked by the remotest analogy to those other un- 
doubted principles and faculties which exhibit them- 
selves with undeniable uniformity. 

It will perhaps be said, that the spiritual phenomena 
are not so uniform as those of sense, —as Mr. Parker 
and Mr. Newman both abundantly admit,— but that 
there is an approximate uniformity. And you must 
seek it, says Mr. Parker, in the “ Absolute Religion” 
which animates every form of religion, and is equally 
found in all. I know he chatters about this inces- 
santly ; but when I attempt thus to “hunt the one in 
the many,” as Plato would call it, —to seek the elusive 
unity in the infinite multiform,—to discover what it is 
which equally embalms all forms, from the Christianity 
of Paul to the religion of the “ grim Calmuck,” I ac- 
knowledge myself as much at a loss as Martinus in 
endeavoring to catch the abstraction of a Lord Mayor} 
Mr. Parker, on the other hand, is like Crambe, “ who, 
to show his acuteness, swore that he could form an ab- 
straction of a Lord Mayor, not only without his horse, 


124 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


gown, and gold chain, but even without stature, feature, 
color, hands, head, feet, or any body, which he supposed 
was the abstract of a Lord Mayor.’ Or if it be vain 
to attempt to abstract this Absolute Religion from all 
religions, as Mr. Parker indeed admits,—though it is 
truly ia them,—and [I take his definition from his 
“ direct consciousness,’ — which direct consciousness 
we can see has been directly affected by his abjured 
Bible, — namely, “that it is voluntary obedience to the 
will of God, outward and inward,’ — why, what on 
earth does this vague generality do for us? What soré 
of God? Is he or it one or many? Of infinite attri- 
butes or finite ? of goodness and merey equal to his 
power, or not? Whatis his will? How is he to be 
worshipped? Have we offended him? Is he placable 
ornot? Is he to be approached only through a media- 
tor of some kind, as nearly all mankind have believed, 
but which Mr. Parker denies, —a queer proof, by the 
way, of the clearness of the internal oracle, if he be 
right, —or is he to be approached, as Mr. Parker be- 
lieves, and Mr. Newman with him, without any media- 
tor at all? Is it true that man is immortal, and knows 
it by immediate “ insight,” as Mr. Parker contends, or 
does the said “insight,” as Mr. Newman believes, tell 
us nothing about the matter? Surely the “ Absolute 
Religion,” after having removed from it all in which 
different religions differ, is in danger of vanishing into 
that imperfect susceptibility of some religion, which I 
have already conceded, and which is certainly not such 
a thing as to render an external revelation very ob- 
viously superfluous. It may be summed up in one 
imperfect article. All men and each may say, “I be- 
lieve there is some being, superior in some respects to 
man, whom it is my duty or my interest to” — cetera 
desunt. 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 125 


To affirm that every man has this “ Absolute Relig- 
ion” without external revelation, is much as if a man 
were to say that we have an “ Absolute Philosophy ” 
on the same terms, in virtue of man’s having faculties 
which prompt him to philosophize in some way. All 
religions contain the Absolute Religion, says Mr. Par- 
ker: Just, I reply, as all philosophies contain the abso- 
lute philosophy. The philosophy of Plato, of Aristotle 
of Bacon, of Locke, of Leibnitz, of Reid, are all philoso- 
phies, no doubt; but that is all that is tobe said. Even 
contraries must resemble one another in one point, or 
they could not be contrasted. In truth, there is, I think, 
a striking analogy between man’s spiritual and intellec- 
tual condition; only his intellect is a little less variable 
than his “ spiritual faculty ” ; far more so, however, than 
his senses. His animal nature is more defined than his 
intellectual, his intellectual than his spiritual and moral. 
All the phenomena point either to an imperfect organi- 
zation of his nobler faculties, or to the doctrine of the 
“ Fall.” 

But further, surely if this internal oracle exists in 
man, every sincere and earnest soul, on interrogating his 
consciousness, would hear the indubitable response,— 
would enjoy the beatific vision of “ spiritual insight.” 
If this be asserted, I for one have to say to this repre- 
sentation, that, so far as my own consciousness informs 
me, I have honestly, sincerely, and with utmost dili- 
gence, interrogated my spirit; and I solemnly protest, 
that, apart from those external influences and that ex- 
ternal instruction which the revelation from within is 
supposed to anticipate and supersede, I am not con- 
scious that I should have any of the sentiments which 
either of these writers make the sum of religion. Even 
as to that fundamental position, —the existence of a 


Being of unlimited power and wisdom, (as to his un- 
Lie 


126 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


limited goodness, I believe that nothing but an external 
revelation can absolutely certify us,) I feel that I am 
much more indebted to those inferences from design, 
which these writers make so light of, than to any clear- 
mess in the imperfect intuition; for if I found —and 
surely this is the true test—the traces of design less 
conspicuous in the external world, confusion there, as in 
the moral, and in both greater than is now found in 
either, I extremely doubt whether the faintest surmise 
of such a Being would have suggested itself to me. 
But be that as it may; as to their other cardinal senti- 
ments, —the nature of my relations to this Being, — 
his placability, if offended,—the terms of forgiveness, 
if any, — whether, as these gentlemen affirm, he is ae- 
cessible to all, without any atonement or mediator ;— 
as to all this, I solemnly declare, that, apart from exter- 
nal instruction, I cannot, by interrogating my racked 
spirit, catch even a murmur. ‘That it must be faint, 
indeed, in other men, so faint as to render the preten- 
sions of the certitude of the internal revelation, and its 
independence of all external revelation, perfectly pre- 
posterous, I infer from this, — that they have, for the 
most part, arrived at diametrically opposite conclusions 
from those of these interpreters of the spiritual revela- 
tion. As to the articles, indeed, of man’s immortality 
and a future state, it would be truly difficult for my 
“spiritual insight” to verify theirs; for, according to 
Mr. Parker, bis “insight ” affirms that man is immortal, 
and Mr. Newman’s “insight” declares nothing about 
the matter ! 

Nor is my consciousness, so far as I can irace it, 
mine only. This painful uncertainty has been the con- 
fession of multitudes of far greater minds; they have 
been so far from contending that we have naturally a 
clear utterance on these great questions, that they have 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 127 


acknowledged the necessity of an external revelation ; 
and mankind in general, so far from thinking or feeling 
such light superfluous, have been constantly. gaping 
after it, and adopted almost any thing that but bore the 
name. 

What, then, am I to think of this all-sufficient reve- 
Jation from within ? 

There is, indeed, an amusing answer of Mr. New- 
man’s to the difficulty ; but then it formally surrenders 
the whole argument. He says to those who say they 
are unconscious of those facts of spiritual pathology 
which he describes in his work on the “ Soul,” that the 
consciousness of the spiritual man is not the less true, 
that the unspiritual man is not privy to it; and this 
most devout gentleman somewhere quotes, with much 
unction, the words, “ For the spiritual man judgeth all 
things, but himself is judged of no man.” 

“J shall be curious to know,” said J, interrupting 
him, “ what you will reply to that argument?” 

Reply to it, said he, eagerly; does it require any 
reply ? — However, I will read what I have written. Is 
it not plain, that while Mr. Newman is professedly 
anatomizing the spiritual nature of man, as man, — the 
functions and revelations of that inward oracle which 
supersedes and anticipates all external revelation, — 
he is, in fact, anatomizing his own? What title has 
he, when avowedly explaining the phenomena of the 
religious faculty which he asserts to be inherent in 
humanity, —though how they should need explaining, 
if his theory be true, I know not,— what title has he, 
when men deny that they are conscious of the facts he 
describes, to take refuge in his own private revelations, 
and that of the few whose privilege it is to be “ born 
again” by a mysterious law which he says it is impos- 
~ sible for us to investigate? “ We cannot pretend,” he 


128 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


says, “to sound the mystery whence comes the new 
birth in certain souls. ‘To reply, ‘The Spirit bloweth 
where He listeth, confesses the mystery, and declines 
to explain it. But it is evident that individuals in 
Greece, in the third century before the Christian era, 
were already moving towards an intelligent heart- 
worship, or had even begun to practise it!” * 

High time, I think, that after some thousands of 
years some few individuals should begin to manifest 
the phenomena of the universal revelation from within, 
if such a thing be! 

This is not to delineate the religious nature of hu- 
manity, but to reveal—vyes, and to reveal externally 
—the religious nature of the elect few,—and few 
they are. indeed,— who, by a mysterious infidel Cal- 
vinism, are permitted to attaif, by direct intuition, 
and independent of all external revelation, the true 
sentiments and experiences of “ spiritual insight.” If 
this be Mr. Newman’s solution of our difficulties, it is 
utterly nugatory. It is not to dissect the soul, “its 
sorrows and aspirations”; it is merely to give us the 
pathology — perhaps the morbid pathology — of Mr. 
Newman’s soul, its sorrows and its aspirations. If the 
answer merely respected the practical value of a theory 
of spiritual sentiments, which all acknowledged, then 
Mr. Newman’s answer might have some force; for, cer- 
tainly, only he who reduced that theory to practice, or 
attempted to do so, would have a right to conclude 
against the experience of him who did. But it is 
obvious that the question affects the theory itself, and 
especially the consciousness of those terms of possible 
communion with God, those relations of the soul to 
him, on the reception of which all the said spiritual 
experience must depend. 


* Soul, p. 64. 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 129 


How, then, stands the argument? I ask how I shall 
know the intimations of the spiritual faculty, which 
renders all “ external revelation” an impertinence? I 
am told, with delicious vagueness, that I must gaze on 
the phenomena of spiritual consciousness; I say I ex- 
ercise earnest and sincere self-serutiny, and that I can 
discern nothing but shadowy forms, most of which do 
not answer to those which these new spiritualists de- 
scribe; and then Mr. Newman turns round and says, 
that the unspiritual nature cannot discern them! What 
is this but to give up the only question of any impor- 
tance to humanity, — which is not what are Mr. New- 
man’s spiritual phenomena; if they are known to him- 
self, it is well; he has been very long in discovering 
them, in spite of the clearness of the internal revelation ; 
— but what are those of man? If the former be all, 
Mr. Newman is safe indeed; he is intrenched in his 
own peculiar consciousness, of which I am quite willing 
to admit that all other men (as well as I) are inade- 
quate judges. But the monograph of a solitary enthu- 
siast is of the least possible consequence to humanity. 
For reasons similar to those which render us incompe- 
tent to pronounce on his experience, he is incapable of 
judging of ours. There is only one other answer that 
I know of, and that is the answer which Fellowes made 
to me the other day, when you were not by :—“ O, but 
you have the same spiritual consciousness as J have, 
only you are not aware of it?” I contented myself 
with saying, that I was just as able to comprehend a 
perception which is not perceived, as a consciousness 
which when sought was not to be found. The question 
is one of consciousness ; you say you have it, I do not 
deny it; Ihave it not. Now, if we are not disputing 
as to whether it be a characteristic of Aumanity, it little 
matters; if we are, I plainly have the best of it, because 


1380 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


want of uniformity in the phenomenon is destructive of 
the hypothesis. 

But I proceed to ask my second question. Is the 
“absolute religion” of Mr. Parker, or the “spiritual 
faculty” of Mr. Newman, of such singular use as to 
supersede all external revelation, since by the unfor- 
tunate “conceptions” of the one, and the “ degraded 
types ” of the other, it has for ages left man, and does, 
in fact, now leave him, to wallow in the lowest depths 
of the most debasing idolatry and superstition; since, 
by the confession of these very writers, the great bulk 
of mankind have been and are hideously mal-formed, 
in fact, spiritual cripples, and have been left to wander 
in infinitely varied paths of error, but always paths of 
error ?—for Judaism and Christianity, though beller 
forms, are, as well as other forms, — according to these 
writers, — full of fables and fancies, of lying legends 
and fantastical doctrines. Think for a moment of a 
“ spiritual faculty,” so bright as to anticipate all essen- 
tial spiritual verities, —the universal possession of hu- 
manity,—— which yet terminates in leaving the said 
humanity to grovel in every form of error, between the 
extremes of Fetichism, which consecrates a bit of stone, 
and Pantheism, which consecrates all the bits of stone 
in the universe, in fact, a sort of comprehensive Feti- 
chism ;— which leaves man to erect every thing into a 
God, provided it is none,—sun, moon, stars, a cat, a 
monkey, an onion, uncouth idols, sculptured marble ; 
nay, a shapeless trunk, — which the devout impatience 
of the idolater does not stay to fashion into the likeness 
of a man, but gives it its apotheosis at once! Think of 
the venerable, wide-spread empire of the infinite forms 
of polytheism, the ancient Egyptian, Greek, Roman, 
Chinese, and Hindoo mythologies ; and then acknowl- 
edge, that, if man has this faculty, it is either the most 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 131 


idle prerogative ever bestowed on a rational creature, 
or that, somehow or other, as the Bible affirms, it has 
been denaturalized and disabled. If, on the other hand, 
man has this faculty, and yet has never fallen, it can 
only be because-he never stood; and then, no doubt, as 
old John Bunyan hath it, “ He that is down need fear 
novell se 

There is an answer, indeed, but it is one which, in 
my judgment, covers those who resort to it with the 
deepest shame. It is that which apologizes for all these 
abominations, —so humiliating and odious , by repre- 
senting them as less humiliating and eas than they 
are. It is true that Mr. Parker, when it is his cue, is 
most eloquent in his denunciations of the infinite mis- 
eries and degradation which have followed the exorbi- 
tancies of the religious principle. Thus he says of su- 
perstition (and there are other innumerable passages to a 
similar effect), “ ‘'o dismember the soul, the very image 
of God,—to lop off the most sacred affections, — to 
call Reason a liar, Conscience a devil’s oracle, and cast 
Love clean out from the heart, — this is the last tri- 
umph of superstition, but one often witnessed in all the 
three forms of Religion, Fetichism, Polytheism, Mon- 
otheism; in all ages before Christ, in all ages after 
Christ.” Far be it from me to deny it, or the similar 
horrors which he liberally shows flow from fanaticism. 
But then, at other times, that quintessence of all ab- 
stractions which all religions alike contain — the “ ab- 
solute religion ” — imparts such perfume and appetizing 
relish to the whole composition, that, like Dominie 
Sampson in Meg Merrilies’s cuisine, Mr. P. finds the 
Devil’s cookery-book not despicable. The things he so 
fearfully describes are but perversions of what is essen- 
tially good. ‘The “forms,” the “ accidentals,” of differ- 
ent religions become of little consequence ; whether it 


132 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


be Jehovah or Jupiter, the infinite Creator or a divine 
cat, a holy and gracious God that is loved, or an impure 
demon that is feared,—all this is secondary, provided 
the principles of faith, simplicity, and earnestness — 
that is, blind credulity and idiotic stupidity — inspire 
the wretched votary; as if the perversions he deplores 
and condemns were not the necessary consequences of 
such religions themselves, or, rather, as if they were 
aught but the religions! Jn virtue of the “ absolute re- 
ligion,” “many a savage smeared with human sacri- 
fice,” and the Christian martyr perishing with a prayer 
for his persecutors, are hastening together to the celes- 
tial banquet. I hope the “savage” will not go with 
“unwashen hands,” I trust he may be Pharisee enough 
for that; I also hope the two will not sit next one an- 
other ; otherwise the savage may be tempted to offer up 
a second sacrifice, and the Christian martyr be a martyr 
a second time. Hear him:—“He that worships truly, 
by whatever form,” —that is, who is sincere in his Feti- 
chism, his idolatry, his sacrifices, though they may be 
human, — “ worships the only God; he hears the pray- 
er, whether called Brahma, Pan, or Lord, or called by 
no name at all. Each people has its prophets and its 
saints; and many a swarthy Indian who bowed down 
to wood and stone, — many a grim-faced Calmuck, who 
worshipped the great God of Storms,—many a Gre- 
cian peasant who did homage to Pheebus Apollo when 
the sun rose or went down, — yes, many a savage, his 
hands smeared all over with human sacrifice, — shall 
come from the East and the West, and sit down in the 
kingdom of God, with Moses and Zoroaster, with 
Socrates and Jesus.”* The charity which hopes that 
men may be forgiven the crime of “ religions” which, 


* Discourses, p. 83. 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 134 


if there be a God at all, must be “ abominations,” one 
can understand; but these maudlin apologies for the 
religions themselves, — as if‘they were not themselves 
crimes, and involved crimes in their very practice, — I 
do not understand. According to this, all that man 
has to do is to be sincere in any thing, however diaboli- 
cal, and it is at once transmuted into a virtue which 
nothing less than heaven can reward! 

Mr. Newman sometimes follows closely in Mr. Par- ° 
ker’s steps in the exercise of this bastard toleration, 
this spurious charity; though, in justice, I must say, he 
does not go his length. Yet who can read without 
loughter that definition of idolatry, made apparently 
for the same preposterous purpose,—to sanctify the 
hideous absurdities of the “ religious sentiment,” and to 
save the credit of the “internal oracle”? He says, — 
“'To worship as perfect and infinite one whom we know 
to be imperfect and finite, this is idolatry, and (in any 
bad sense) this alone...... A man can but adore his 
own highest ideal ; to forbid this is to forbid all religion 
to him. If, therefore, idolatry is to mean any thing 
wrong and bad, the word must be reserved for the cases 
in which a man degrades his ideal by worshipping 
something that falls short of it.” * 

So that the most degraded idolater, if he but come 
up to his own ideal of the Divinity, is none at all, but a 
respectable worshipper! It may be; but the idolater’s 
ideal of God is, generally, the reality of what others 
call the Devil! — Only think of the divine ideal of a 
man who worships an image of his own making, with 
ten heads and twenty hands! The definition reminds 
me of that passage in which Pascal’s Jesuit Father de- 
fines the moral sin of “idleness” ; — “ It is,” says he, 


* Soul, pp. 55, 56. 
12 


134 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“a grief that spiritual things should be spiritual, as if 
it should be regretted that the sacraments are the 
source of grace ; and it is a mortal sin.” “ O Father!” 
said J, “I cannot imagine that any one can be idle in 
such a sense.” “ So Escobar says, ‘ I confess it is very 
seldom that any person falls into the sin of idleness.’ 
Now, surely, you must see the necessity of a good defi- 
nition |” 

No, no; few but Mr. Parker will afhrm that the 
various religions which have overshadowed the world 
are essentially more one in virtue of the “absolute 
religion,” than they are different in virtue of their prin- 
. ciples, tendencies, practices, and forms; while in none 
—if we except Judaism and Christianity —is there 
enough of the “ absolute religion” to keep them sweet. 

These apologies, odious as they are, are necessary 
if the credit of the “ spiritual faculty” and the “ abso- 
lute religion ” is to be at all preserved. But, unhappily, 
it is not a tone which can be consistently preserved. 
Sometimes the religions of mankind are all tolerable 
enough, from the presence of the all-consecrating ele- 
ment; and sometimes, in spite of this great antiseptic, 
they are represented as the rotten, putrid things they 
are! And then another answer, equally empty with the 
former, is hinted to save the credit of the darling oracle. 
Its due influence has been perverted, its just expansion 
prevented, by the influence of national religions, by the 
intervention of the “ historical” and “traditional,” by 
false and pernicious education ; — these things, it seems, 
have poisoned the waters of spiritual life in their source, 
else they had gushed out of the hidden fountains of the 
heart pure as crystal! 

Yes, it is too plain; “ Bibliolatry” and “ Historical 
Religion,” in some shape, — Vedas, Koran, or Bible, — 
have been the world’s bane. Had it not been for these, 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 185 


I suppose, we should everywhere have heard the inva- 
riable utterance of “spiritual religion” in the one dia- 
lect of the heart. 

It is too certain that the world has found its spiritual 
“Babel”: the one dialect of the heart is yet to be 
heard. 

But I am not sure that the apologetic vein would 
not be wiser. For what is this plea, but to acknowl- 
edge that man is so constituted that the boasted “re- 
ligious sentiment,” the “spiritual faculty,” — if it exist 
at all, and is any thing more than an ill-defined ten- 
dency, — instead of being a glorious light which antici- 
pates all external revelation, and renders it superfluous, 
is, in fact, about the feeblest in our nature ; which every- 
where and always is seduced and debauched by the 
most trumpery pretensions of the “ historical” and “ tra- 
ditional”! It is not so with people’s eyes; it is not so 
with people’s appetites; no parental influence or early 
instruction can make men think that green is blue, or 
stones and chalk good for food. Yet this glorious 
faculty uniformly yields, — goes into shivers in the en- 
counter! J, at least, will grant to Mr. Parker all he 
says of the pernicious and detestable character of the 
infinite variety of “false conceptions of God,” and to 
Mr. Newman all he says of the “ degraded types” of 
religion; but then it was Man himself that framed all 
those “false conceptions,” and all those “degraded 
types.” How came he thus universally to triumph over 
that divinely implanted faculty of spiritual discernment, 
which, if it exist, must be the most admirable feature 
of humanity ; which these writers tell us anticipates all 
external truth, but which, it seems, greedily swallows all 
external error? It almost universally submits to the 
most contemptible pretensions of a revelation, and ac-— 
knowledges that it dares not to pronounce on that, even 


136 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


when false, of which, even when true, it is to be the 
sole source! There never was an “ historical” religion, 
however contemptible, that did not make its thousands 
of proselytes. Man has been easily led to embrace the 
most absurd systems of mythology and superstition, 
and is willing even to go to death for them. 

So far from venturing to set up.the claims of the in- 
ternal oracle in competition, man all but uniformly takes 
his religion from his fathers (no matter what), just as he _ 
takes his property; only the former, however worthless, 
he holds as infinitely the more precious. ven when he 
surrenders it, he still surrenders it to some other “ histori- 
cal” religion: it is to that he turns. Such men as Mr. 
Newman and Mr. Parker—though every one can see 
that their system too has been derived from without, that 
it is, in fact, nothing but a distorted Christianity — may 
be numbered by units. The vast bulk of mankind are 
unresisting victims of the “traditional” and “ histori- 
cal”; nay, rather eagerly ask for it, and willingly sub- 
mit to it. What, then, can I infer, but either, Ist, that 
this vaunted internal faculty which supersedes all ne- 
cessity of an external revelation is a delusion, and exists 
only as a vague and imperfect tendency ; or, 2dly, that, 
as Christians say; it lies in ruins, and needs that exter- 
nal revelation, the possibility of which is denied; or, 
3dly, that God has somehow made a great mistake in 
mingling the various elements of man’s composition, 
and miscalculating the overmastering power of the “ his- 
torical” and “traditional”; or, 4thly, that man, havy- 
ing the original faculty still bright and strong, and that 
brightness and strength sufficient for his guidance and 
support, is more hopelessly, deliberately, and diabolical- 
ly wicked, in thus everywhere and always substituting 
‘error for truth, and superstition for religion, ——in thus 
giving the historical and traditional the uniform ascen- 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 137 


dency over the moral and spiritual, than even the 
most desperate Calvinist ever ventured to represent 
him! Surely he is the most detestable beast that ever 
crawled on the face of the earth, and, in a new and 
more portentous sense, “loves darkness rather than 
light.” The fact is, that—so far from having even a 
suspicion that an external revelation is useless or impos- 
sible—he, as already said, greedily seeks for it, and 
devours it. 

Nay, so far from its being authenticated by the his- 
tory, or vouched by the consciousness of the race, this 
very proposition — that man stands in no need of an 
external revelation —first comes to him, and rather 
late too, by an external revelation ; even the revelation 
of such writers as Mr. Parker and Mr. Newman. - The 
last has been a student of theology for twenty years, and 
has only just arrived at this conviction, that he needed 
no light, inasmuch as he had plenty of light “ within.” 
Brilliant, surely, it must have been! I can only say 
for myself, that I do not, even with such aid, find 
myself in any superfluous illumination, and would 
gladly accept, with Plato, some divine communication, 
of which, heathen as he was, he acknowledged the ne- 
cessity. 

The mode of accounting for man’s universal aber- 
rations, from the tyranny of “ bibliolatry ” and super- 
stitious and pernicious “ education,” — seeing that it is 
a tyranny of man’s own imposing, — is exactly like that 
by which some theologians seek to elude the argument 
of man’s depravity ; it is owing, they say, to the influ- 
ence of a universally depraved education! But whence 
that universally depraved education they forget to tell 
us. Meantime, the inquirer is apt to put that universal 
proclivity in the matter of education to that very de- 


pravity for which it is to account. 
12* 


138 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


Similarly, one is apt to infer, from man’s tendency 
to deviate into any path of religious superstition and 
folly, that the spiritual lantern he carries within casts 
but a feeble hight upon his path. ‘This plea, therefore, 
is utterly worthless; for if it were true, that the influ- 
ence of tradition and historic association, when once 
set up, could thus darken and debauch the natural fac- 
ulty, whose specific office it was to convey, like the eye, 
specific intelligence, it would not account for the first 
_ tendencies of man to disown its authority in favor of 
an absurd and uniform submission to the usurpations 
of tradition and priestcraft. The faculty is universally 
feeble against this influence ; it slaggers ; whether from 
weakness or drunkenness little matters, except that the 
last is the viler infirmity of the two. If we find a river 
turbid, it is of no consequence whether it was so as it 
issued from its fountain, or from pollutions which have 
been infused into its current lower down, —it is a tur- 
bid river still. 

On the whole, so far from admitting the principle of 
Mr. Newman, that a “ book-revelation” of moral and 
spiritual truth is unnecessary, I should rather be dis- 
posed to infer the very contrary, from the uncertainty, 
vacillation, and feebleness of man’s spiritual nature. 
I should be disposed to infer it, whether I look at the 
lessons which experience and history teach, or those 
taught by my own anxious and sincere scrutiny of my 
own consciousness. If it be,on the other hand, as he 
says, “impossible,” mankind are in a very hopeless pre- 
dicament, since it only proves that, the “spiritual in- 
sight” of man having unhappily failed the great majority 
of our race, it cannot be supplied by any external aid} 
that the malady, which is but too apparent, is also as 
apparently without a remedy. 

For myself, I must say that I find myself hopelessly 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 139 


at issue with him in virtue of the above axiom, whether 
I receive or reject his theory of religious truth; for, if 
that axiom be true, I must reject his theory of religion, 
—since it is nothing but a book-revelation to me, — 
issued by Mr. Newman, instead of the Bible or the 
Koran. On the other hand, if that theory be true, and 
I accept it, his maxim must be false, for the very same 
reason; since he himself will have given me a double 
book-revelation, —a revelation at once of the theory 
and of the genesis of religion, both of which are in 
many respects absolute novelties to my consciousness. 
But further; if we take the genesis of religion as 
described by either of these writers, and consider the 
infinite corruptions to which they both acknowledge a 
perverted, imperfect “development” of the “religious 
sentiment” and the “spiritual faculty” has led, one 
would imagine that an external communication from 
Heaven might be both very possible and very useful; 
useful, if only by cautioning men against those “ false 
conceptions” which have so uniformly swamped the 
“jidea,’ and those “degraded types,’ into which all 
the various principles of our nature have wheedled the 
“ spiritual faculty.” Only listen to a brief specimen of 
the “by-path meadows” which entice the poor soul 
from the direct course of its development, and judge 
whether a communication from Heaven, if it were only 
to the extent of a sign-post by the way-side, might not 
be of use! First comes “awe.” “But even in this 
early stage,” says Mr. Newman, “ numberless deviations 
take place, and mark especially the rudest Paganism. 
We may embrace them under the general name of 
Fetichism, which here claims attention...... But even 
in the midst of enlightened science, and highly literate 
ages, errors fundamentally identical with those of Feti- 
chism may and do exist, and with the very same re- 


140 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


sults.” * Then comes wonder: “ But of this likewise 


we find numerous degraded types in which the rising 
religion is marred...... Of this we have eminent in- 
stances in the gods of Greece, and in the fairies of the 
German and Persian tribes...... Under the same head 
will be included the grotesque devil-stories and other 
legends of the Middle Ages...... Yet the dreadful 
alternative of gross superstition is this, that the graver 
view tends to cruel and horrible rites, while the fanciful 
and sportive sucks out the life-blood of devout feel- 
ing.” + Then comes the sense of beauty: “ This was 
strikingly illustrated in Greek sculpture. <A statue of 
exquisite beauty, representing some hero, or an Apollo, 
because of its beauty, seemed to the Greeks a fit object 
of worship...... An opposite danger is often remarked 
to accompany the use of all the fine arts as handmaids 
to religion; namely, that the would-be worshipper is 
so absorbed in mere beauty as never to rise into devo- 
tion.” ¢ ‘Then comes the sense of order; but, alas! 
Atheism and Pantheism, and other “ degrading types,” 
may be begotten of it! 

As I look at men thus tumbling into error along this 
wretched causeway to heaven, I seem to be viewing 
Addison’s bridge of human life, with its broken arches, 
at each of which thousands are falling through. ‘This 
way to the “celestial city” ought to be called the 
‘“ Northwest Passage”; it has one, and only one, trait 
of your Christian path: “there will be few that find it.” 

If, then, by the confession of these writers, the “false 
conceptions” and the “degraded types” —the result 
of what are as truly “principles” of man’s nature as 
the supposed “spiritual faculty,” only that this last 
always has the worst in the conflict — have universally, 


* Soul, pp. 7, 10. t Ibid. pp. 14-16. t Ibid. pp. 21, 23. 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 141 


and for unknown ages, involved man in the darkest 
abysses of superstition, crime, and misery, surely exter- 
nal revelation is any thing but superfluous; and if im- 
possible, so much the worse. 

The same truth is even formally evinced by the self- 
destructive course which both writers employ; for as 
the conditions of the development of our “spiritual 
nature,” when not complied with, lead to all the de- 
plorable consequences which they acknowledge, how 
do they propose to rectify them? Why, by “ external” 
culture, proper discipline and training, judicious in- 
struction, by enlightening mankind,— as we may sup- 
pose they are doing by these hopeful books of theirs! 
If man can do so much by his books, is it impossible 
that a book from God might do something more? But 
on this I will say nothing, since you tell me that you 
have heard attentively the conversation I had with my 
friend Fellowes the other day. I will therefore omit 
what I had written on this point...... 

But I proceed to another, maintained by these writ- 
ers, on which I confess I am equally sceptical. If 
they concede (as how can they help it?) that the 
“religious sentiment” and the “ spiritual faculty” have 
somehow left humanity involved in the most deplorable 
perplexities and the most humiliating errors, they yet 
assure us that there is “a good time coming,’—an 
auspicious “ progress” in virtue and religion, very grad- 
ual indeed, but sure and illimitable for the race col- 
lectively! Yes, “progress,” that is the word; and a 
“ progress” for the world at large, of which they speak 
as certainly as if they had received, at least on that 
point, that external revelation, the possibility of which 
they deny. A matter of spiritual “insight” I presume 
none will declare it to be, and the data are certainly far 
too meagre and unsatisfactory to make it calculation. 


142 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


Is Sau. among the prophets? Yes; but,as usual, the 
truth (if it be a truth) for which they contend is, as 
with other parts of their system, a plagiarism from the 
abjured Bible. Now, if I must believe prophecy, I 
prefer the magnificent strains of Isaiah to the senti- 
mental prose either of Mr. Parker or of Mr. Newman. 

I must modestly doubt whether, apart from the rep- 
resentations of the “books” they abjure as special 
“revelations,” there is any thing in the history of the 
world which will justify a sober-minded man in coming 
to any positive conclusion as to this promised “ prog- 
ress,” this infidel millennium, either the one way or the 
other. The chief facts, apart from such special infor- 
mation, would certainly point the other way. Look 
at the condition of the immense majority of the race 
in every age, —so far as we can gather any thing from 
history, — compare it with that of the immense major- 
ity at the present moment;—what does it tell us? 
Why, surely, that, if there be a destiny of indefinite 
“progress” in religion and virtue for the race collec- 
tively, the hand of the great clock moves so immeasur- 
ably slow that it is impossible to note it. The expe- 
rience of the individual, nay, of recorded history, — 
if we can say there is any such thing, — fails to trace 
the movement of the index on the have dial. If there 
be this progress for the race collectively, it must be 
accomplished in a cycle vast as those of the geological 
eras ;——a deposit of a millionth of an inch of knowledge 
and virtue over the whole race in fifty million years or 
so! Mr. Newman is pleased to say, “Some nations 
sink, while others ris2; but the lower and higher levels 
are both generally ascending.” Has this level for the 
whole race been raise1 perceptibly within the memory 
of so-called history ? 

Observe; I am not denying that the notion may be 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 143 


true: I am literally the sceptic I profess to be; I know 
not— apart from special information from a Siparihe 
man source —whether it be true or false. I am only 
venturing to laugh at men, who, denying any such in- 
Dee ria affect: to speak with any confidence on the 
solution of this prodigious problem, the data for solving 
which I contend we have not; while those we aoe 
apart from the direct assurance BE supposed inspiration, 
more plausibly point to an opposite conclusion. The 
conclusion which would more naturally suggest itself 
from the history of the past would be that of perpetual 
advance and perpetual retrogression, contemporaneously 
going on in different portions of the race, — perpetual 
flux and reflux of the waves of knowledge and science 
on different shores; though, alas! as to “religion and 
virtue,’ I fear that these, like the Mediterranean, are al- 
most without their tides. For a “ progress” in the for- 
mer,—in the race collectively,—far more plausible 
arguments can be adduced than for a progress in the 
latter; yet how much might be said that appears to 
militate even against that. Think of the frequent and 
signal checks to civilization ; its transference from seat 
to seat; the decay of races once celebrated for knowl- 
edge and art; the inundations of barbarism from time 
to time; — these things alone might make a sober mind 
pause before he predicted for the entire race a certain 
progress even in art and science. Experience would at 
most justify a philosopher in saying, “Perhaps, yes; 
perhaps, no.” But the argument pedontes incomparably 
more doubtful when we come to “ religion,’ and espe- 
cially that particular form of it which such writers as 
Messrs. Parker and Newman believe will be preéminent 
and universal; towards which consummation it does 
not appear at present that the smallest conceivable ad- 
vance has been made; since, with the exception of that 


144 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


infinitesimal party, of which they are among the chief, 
the immense majority of mankind persist in rejecting 
the sufficiency of the “internal” oracle, and are still 
found as strongly convinced as ever both of the possi- 
bility and necessity of an “external” revelation, and 
that, in some shape or other, it has been given! Nay, 
the facts, so far as we have any, seem all the other 
way; for no sooner had men been put approximately 
in possession of the pure “ spiritual truth,” which both 
Mr. Newman and Mr. Parker suppose to be character- 
istic in larger measure of Judaism and Christianity than 
of any other religion, than they busily began the work, 
not of improvement, but of corruption. The Jews cor- 
rupted their pure monotheistic truths into what these 
writers believe the fables, legends, miracles, and absurd 
dogmas of the Old Testament: and, as if that were not 
enough, proceeded to bury them in the huge absurdi- 
ties of the Rabbinical traditions; the Christians, in 
like manner, corrupted the yet purer truths, which these 
writers affirm Christianity teaches, with what they also 
afhrm to be the load of myth, fiction, false history, and 
monstrous doctrine, which make up nine tenths of the 
New Testament: and, as if ¢hat were not enough, pro- 
ceeded, just as did the Jews, to “expand” the New 
Testament itself into the worse than Rabbinical tradi- 
tions of the Papacy! From approximate “spiritual 
truth” to the supposed legends and false dogmas of 
the Pentateuch, from the supposed legends and dogmas 
of the Pentateuch to the absurdities of the Talmud; 
—again, from the approximate “spiritual truth” of 
Christianity to the supposed legends and fanciful doc- 
trines of the New Testament, and from the legends and 
doctrines of the New Testament to the corruptions of 
the Papacy; — surely these are queer proofs of a ten- 
dency to progress! A tendency to retrogradation is 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 145 


rather indicated. No sooner, it appears, does man pro- 
ceed to obtain “ spiritual truth” tolerably pure, as tested 
by such writers, than he proceeds incontinently to adul- 
-terate it! This unhappy and uniform tendency is also 
a curious comment on the impotence of the internal 
spiritual oracle, as against the ascendency of the “ his- 
torical” and “ traditional.” 

Similar arguments of doubt may be derived from 
other facts. 

Over how many countries did primitive Christianity 
soon degenerate into such odious idolatry, that even the 
delusions of the “false prophet” have been considered 
(like the doom to “ labor”) as a sort of beneficent curse 
in comparison! What, again, for ages, was the history 
of those “Shemitic races,’ in which, of all “races,” 
was found, according to Mr. Parker, the happiest “ re- 
ligious organization,” by which they discovered, earlier 
than other “races,” the great truths of Monotheism ? 
One incessant bulimia for idolatry was their master- 
passion for ages; while for many ages past, as has 
been remarked by a countryman of Mr. Parker, their 
“happy religious organization” has been in deplorable 
ruins. 7 

I humbly venture, then, once again, to doubt whether 
any sober-minded man, apart from ‘ special inspira- 
tion,” can affirm that he has any grounds to utter a 
word about a “progress” in religion or virtue for the 
race collectively. But it is easy to see where these 
writers obtained the notion; they have stolen it from 
that Bible which as a special revelation they have ab- 
jured. 

I cannot help remarking here, that it is a most sus- 
picious circumstance, if there be, indeed, any universal 
and sufficient “internal revelation,” that these writers 


find every memorable advance of what they deem re- 
; 13 


146 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


ligious truth in unaccountable connection either with 
the happy “religious organization of one race,” aecord- 
ing to Mr. Parker, or in equally strange connection with 
the records of “ two books” originating among that race, 
according to Mr. Newman. “ ‘The Bible,” says the lat- 
ter, “is pervaded by a sentiment which is implied every- 
where, namely, the intimate sympathy of the Pure and 
Perfect God with the heart of each faithful worshipper. 
This is that which is wanting in Greek philosophers, 
English Deists, German Pantheists, and all formalists. 
This is that which so often edifies me in Christian 
writers and speakers, when I ever so much disbelieve 
the letter of their sentences.” *. 

It is unaccountably odd that the universal spiritual 
faculty should act thus capriciously, and equally odd 
that Mr. Newman does not perceive, that, if it were not 
for the “ Bible,” his religion would no more have as- 
sumed the peculiar task it has, than that of Aristotle or 
Cicero. Sentiments due to the still active influences 
of his Christian education he imputes to the direct in- 
tuitions of spiritual vision, just as we are apt to con- 
found the original and acquired perceptions of our eye- 
“sight. He is in the condition of one who mistakes a 
reflected image for the object itself, or a forgotten sug- 
gestion of another for an Original idea. In the camera 
obscura of his mind, he flatters himself that the colored 
forms there traced are the original inscriptions on the 
walls, forgetful of the little aperture which has let in 
the light; and not even disturbed by the untoward 
phenomenon, that the ideas thus contemplated are all 
upside down. | 

But, surely, it is natural to ask, — How is it that 
Greek philosophers, Hindoo sages, Egyptian priests, 
RE SB Pel iin lel pol Je 

* Phases, p. 188. 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 147 


English Deists,— that men of all other religions, — 
having always had access to the fountain of natural 
illumination within, have not also had their “ Baxters, 
Leightons, Watts, Doddridges”? that the whole style 
of thought on this subject is so totally different in them 
all, by his own confession? If man possess the “ spirit- 
ual faculty” attributed to him, — if it bea characteristic 
of humanity, —it will be surely generally manifested ; 
and even if those disturbing causes— which he and 
Mr. Parker so plentifully provide, by which the genesis 
of religion is so unhappily marred, but which, alas! no 
revelation from without can ever counteract — prevent 
its uniform, or nearly uniform display, still its principal 
indications (partial though they may be everywhere) 
ought, at least, to be everywhere indifferently diffused 
throughout the race. Its manifestation may be spo- 
yadic, but it will be in one race as in another; it 
will not be suspiciously confined to one race with 
a peculiarly felicitous “religious organization,” or to 
“two books” exclusively originating with that favored 
race. 

For his “spiritual” illumination, it is easy to see 
Mr. Newman’s exclusive dependence on that Bible 
which he abjures as a special revelation. If it has 
not been so to mankind, it has, at least, been so to Mr. 
Newman. ‘To it he perpetually runs for argument and 
illustration. Among those who will accept his infidel- 
ity I apprehend there will be few who will not recoil 
from his representations of spiritual experience, so ob- 
viously nothing more than a disguised and mutilated 
Christianity. They will say, that they do not wish the 
“new cloth sewed on to the old garment”; scarcely a 
soul amongst them will sympathize with his soul’s 
“ sorrows,” or share jis soul’s “ aspirations” ! 

But, however these things may be, I now proceed to 


148 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


what I acknowledge is the most weighty topic of my 
argument; which is to prove that, if I acquiesce, on 
Mr. Newman’s grounds, in the rejection of the Bible as 
a special revelation of God, I am compelled on the very 
same principles to go a few steps further, and to express 
doubts of the absolutely divine original of the World, 
and the administration thereof, just as he does of the 
divine original of the Bible. If 1 concede to Mr. New- 
man, however we may differ as to the moral and spirit- 
ual faculties of man, that these are yet the sole and 
ultimate court of appeal to us; that from our “intui- 
tions” of right and wrong, of “moral and _ spiritual 
truth,” be they more perfect according to him, or more 
rudimentary and imperfect according to me, we must 
form a judgment of the moral bearings of every pre- 
sumed external revelation of God, —I cannot do other- 
wise than reject much of the revelation of God in his 
presumed Works as unworthy of him, just as Mr. New- 
man does very much in his supposed Word as equally 
unworthy of him. Mr. Newman says, “ Only by dis- 
cerning that God has Virtues, similar in kind to human 
Virtues, do we know of his truthfulness and his good- 
Hess.u tees The nature of the case implies, that the 
human mind is competent to sit in moral and spiritual 
judgment on a professed revelation, and to decide (if the 
case seem to require it) in the following tone: —‘ This 
doctrine attributes to God that which we should all 
call harsh, cruel, or unjust in man: it is therefore in- 
trinsically inadmissible; for if God may be (what we 
should call) cruel, he may equally well be (what we 
should call) a liar ; and, if so, of what use is his word 
tous?’?”* Similarly Mr. Newman continually affirms 
that God reveals himself, when he reveals himself at all, 
ees ie Bo ilo er ee 
* Soul, p. 58. 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 149 


within, and not without; as he says in his “ Phases,” — 
“ Of our moral and spiritual God we know nothing 

without, —every thing within. It is in the spirit that 
we meet him, not in the communications of sense.” * If 
I acquiesce in this judgment, I must apply the reason- 
ing of the above passage to the “external revelation” 
of God in his Works, as well as to that in his Word; 
and the above reasoning will be equally valid, merely 
substituting one word for the other. We are to decide, 
if the case seem to require it, in the following tone: — 
euuhese phenomena —this conduct — nied what we 
should call in man harsh, or cruel, or unjust; it is, 
therefore, intrinsically inadmissible as God’s work or 
God’s conduct.” 

Acting on his principles, Mr. Newman refuses to 
“depress” his conscience (as he says) to the Bible 
standard. He aflirms, that in many cases the Bible 
sanctions, and even enjoins, things which shock his 
moral sense as flagrantly immoral, and he must there- 
fore reject them as supposed to be sanctioned by God. 
He in different places gives instances;—as the sup- 
posed approbation of the assassination of Sisera by the 
wife of Heber, the command to Abraham to sacrifice 
his son, and the extermination of the Canaanites. Now, 
whether the Bible represents God, or not, in all these 
cases, as sanctioning the things in question, I shall not 
be at the pains to inquire, because I am willing to take 
it for granted that Mr. Newman’s representation is per- 
fectly correct. I only think that he ought, in consisten- 
cy, to have gone a little further. Let him defend, as in 
perfect harmony with his “intuitions” of right and 
wrong, the undeniably similar instances which occur in 
the administration of the universe; or, if it be found 


MP. 52, 
i Me 


150 . THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


impossible to solve those difficulties, let him acknowl- 
edge, either that our supposed essential “ intuitions ” of 
moral rectitude are not to be trusted, as applicable to 
the Supreme Being, and that therefore the argument 
from them against the Bible is inconclusive; or, that no 
such being exists; or, lastly, that He has conferred up- 
on man an intuitive conception of moral equity and 
rectitude, — of the just and the unjust, —in most edi- 
fying contradiction to his own character and proceed- 
ings! 

Here Fellowes broke in: — 

“ If indeed there be any such instances; but I think 
Mr. Newman would reply, that they will be sought for 
in vain in the ‘world, however plentiful, as I admit 
they are, in the Bible.” : 

“1 know not whether he would deny them or not,” 
said Harrington ; “but they are found in great abun- 
dance in the world notwithstanding, and this is my — 
difficulty. If Mr. Newman were the creator of the 
universe, no question, none of these contradictions be- 
tween ‘intuitions’ within, and stubborn ‘facts’ with- 
out, would be found. He has created a God after his 
own mind; if be could but have created a universe al- 
so after his own mind, we should doubtless have been 
relieved from all our perplexities. But, unhappily, we 
find in it, as | imagine, the very things which so startle 
Mr. Newman in the Scriptural representations of the di- 
vine character and proceedings. Is he not, like all oth- 
er infidels, peculiarly scandalized, that God should have 
enjoined the extermination of the Canaanites? and yet 
does not God do still more startling things every day of 
our lives, and which appear Jess ptactitite only because 
we are familiar with them, — at least, if we believe that 
the elements, pestilence, famine, in a word, destruction 
in all its forms, really fulfil his bidding? Is there any 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. . tea 


differeiace in the world between the cases, except that 
the terrible phenomena which we find it impossible to 
account for are on an infinitely larger scale, and in du- 
ration as ancient as the world? that they have, in fact, 
been going on for thousands of weary years, and for 
aught you or I can tell, and as Mr. Newman seems to 
think probable, for millions of years? Does not a pesti- 
lence or a famine send thousands of the guilty and the 
innocent alike — nay, thousands of those who know not 
their right hand from their left—-to one common de- 
struction? Does not God (if you suppose it his doing) 
swallow up whole cities by earthquake, or overwhelm 
them with volcanic fires? I say, is there any differ- 
ence between the cases, except that the victims are 
very rarely so wicked as the Canaanites are said to 
have been, and that God in the one case himself does 
the very things which he commissions men to do in the 
other? Now, if the thing be wrong, I, for one, shall 
never think it less wrong to do it one’s self than to do it 
by proxy.” | 

“ But,” said Fellowes, rather warmly, for he felt rath- 
er restive at this part of Harrington’s discourse, “it is 
absurd to compare such sovereign acts of inexplicable 
will on the part of God with his command to a being 
so constituted as man to perform them.” 

« Absurd be it,” said Harrington, “only be so kind as 
to show it to be so, instead of saying so. I maintain 
that the one class of facts are just as ‘inexplicable,’ as 
you call it, as the other, and only appear otherwise be- 
cause, in the one case, we daily see them, have become 
accustomed to them and, what is more than all, cannot 
deny them, — which last we can so promptly do in the 
other case; for Moses is not here to contradict us. But 
I rather think, that a being constituted morally and in- 
tellectually like us, who had never known any but a 


152 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


world of happiness, would just as promptly deny that 
God could ever perform such feats as are daily performed 
in this world! I repeat, that, if for some reasons (‘ inex- 
plicable” I grant you) God does not mind doing such 
things, he is not likely to hesitate to enjoin them; for 
reasons perhaps equally inexplicable. I say perhaps; 
ior, as I compare such an event as the earthquake in 
Lisbon, or the plague in London, with the extermina- 
tion of the Canaanites, I solemnly assure you that I 
find a greater difficulty, as far as my ‘intuitions’ go, in 
supposing the former event to have been effected by a 
divine agency than the latter. If we take the Scripture 
history, we must at least allow that the race thus 
doomed had long tried the patience of Heaven by their 
flagrant impiety and unnatural vices; that they had 
become a centre and a source (as we sometimes see 
collections of men to be) of moral pestilence, in the 
vicinage of which it was unsafe for men to dwell; that, 
as the Scriptures say (whether truly or falsely, I do not 
inquire), they had ‘filled up the measure of their iniqui- 
ties” Let this be supposed as fictitious as you please, 
still the whole proceeding is represented as a solemn 
judicial one; and supposing the events to have occur- 
red just as they are narrated, it positively seems to me 
much less difficult to suppose them to harmonize with 
the character of a just and even beneficent being, than 
those wholesale butcheries which have desolated the 
world, in every hour of its long history, without any 
discrimination whatever of innocence or guilt; which, 
if they have inflicted unspeakable miseries on the im- 
mediate victims, have produced probably as much or 
more in the agony of the myriad myriads of hearts 
which have bled or broken in unavailing sorrow over 
the sufferings they could not relieve. Such things (I 
speak now only of what man has not in any sense in- 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 153 


flicted) are, in your view, as undeniably the work of 
God as is the extermination of the Canaanites accord- 
ing to the Bible. Why, if God does not mind doing 
such things, are we to suppose that he minds on some 
occasions ordering them to be done; unless we suppose 
that man — delicate creature !— has more refined intui- 
tions of right and wrong, and knows better what they 
are, than God himself? Now, Mr. Newman and you 
affirm, that to suppose God should have enjoined the 
destruction of the Canaanites is a contradiction of our 
moral intuitions ; and that for this and similar reasons 
you cannot believe the Bible to be the word of God. I 
answer, that the things I have mentioned are in still 
more glaring contradiction to such ‘intuitions’; than 
which none appears to me more clear than this, — that 
the morally innocent ought not to suffer; and I there- 
fore doubt whether the above phenomena are the work 
of God. I must refuse, on the very same principle on 
which Mr. Newman disallows the Bible to be a true 
revelation of such a Being, to allow this universe to be 
so. In equally glaring inconsistency is the entire ad- 
ministration of this lower world with what appears to 
me a first principle of moral rectitude, — namely, that 
he who suffers a wrong to be inflicted on another, when 
he can prevent it, is responsible for the wrong itself. 
The whole world is full of such instances.” 

“ Ay,” said Fellowes, eagerly, “we ought. to prevent 
a wrong, provided we have the right as well as the 
power to interfere.” 

“Tam supposing that we have the right as well as 
the power; as, for example, to prevent a man from mur- 
dering his neighbor, or a thief from entering his dwell- 
ing. ‘There are, no doubt, many acts which, from our 
very limited right, we should have no business to pre- 
vent; as, for example, to prevent a man from getting 


154 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


tipsy at his own table with his own wine. But no such 
limitation can apply to Him who is supposed to be the 
Absolute Monarch of the universe ; and yet He (accord- 
ing to your view) notoriously does not interpose to pre- 
vent the daily commission of the most heinous wrongs 
and cruelties under which the earth has groaned, and 
hearts have been breaking, for thousands of years. You 
will say, perhaps, that in all such instances we must 
believe that there are some reasons for His conduct, 
though we cannot guess what they are. Ah! my friend, 
if you come to believing, you may believe also that the 
difficulties involved in the Scriptural representations of 
the Divine character and proceedings are susceptible of 
a similar solution. If you come to believing, I think 
the Christian can believe as well as you, and rather 
more consistently. But let me proceed.” 

He then read on. 

It is plain, that, in accordance with our primitive 
“moral intuitions” (if we have any), we should hold 
him who had the power to prevent a wrong, and did not 
use it, as a participator and accomplice in the crime he 
did not prevent. Applying, therefore, the principles of 
Mr. Newman, I must refuse to acknowledge such con- 
duct on the part of the Divine Being, and to say, that 
such things are not done by him. If I may trust my 
whisper of him, derived from analogous moral qualities 
in myself, I must believe that an administration which 
so ruthlessly permits these things is not his work; but 
that his power, wisdom, and goodness have been 
thwarted, bafiled, and overmastered by some “ omnipo- 
tent devil,” to use Mr. Newman’s expression; if it be, 
then that whisper of him cannot be trusted: the hea- 
then wasright, “Sunt superis sua jura.’ In other words, 
I feel that I must become an Atheist, a Pantheist, a 
Manichean, or — what I am —a sceptic. 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 155 


All these perplexities are increased when I trace 
them up to that profound mystery in which they all 
originate, — I] mean the permission of physical and 
moral evil. Hither evil could have been prevented or 
not; if it could, its immense and horrible prevalence is 
at.war with the intuition already referred to; if it 
could not, who shall prove it? I am no more able 
to contradict the intuitions of the intellect than those 
of the conscience; and if any thing can be called a 
contradiction of the former, it is to be told that a Being 
of infinite power, wisdom, and beneficence could not 
construct a world without an immensity of evil in it; 
no reason being assignable or even imaginable for such 
a proposition, except the fact that such a world has 
not been created! lam therefore compelled to doubt, 
whether such a universe be really the fabrication of 
such a Being. It is impossible to express my astonish- 
ment at the ease with which Mr. Newman disposes of 
the difficulties connected with the origin and perpetua- 
tion of physical and moral evil. His arguments are 
just two of the most hackneyed commonplaces with 
which metaphysicians have attempted to evade these 
stupendous difficulties ; and it is not too much to say, 
that there never was a man who was not resolved that 
his theory must stand, who pretended to attach any 
importance to them. They are most gratuitously as- 
sumed, and even then are most trival alleviations; a 
mere plaster of brown paper for a deep-seated cancer. 

I certainly know of no other man who has stood so 
unabashed in front of these awful forms. One almost 
envies him the truly childlike faith with which he 
waves his hand to these Alps, and says, “ Be ye re- 
moved, and cast into the sea”; but the feeling is ex- 
changed for another, when he seems to rub his eyes, 
and exclaim, “ Presto, they are gone sure enough!” 


156 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


while you still feel that you stand far within the cir- 
cumference of their awful shadows. 

As to physical evil, Mr. Newman tells us, “ Here it 
may be sufficient to remark, that the difficulty turns 
on the Epicurean assumption, that physical ease and 
comfort is the most valuable thing in the universe: 
but that is not true even with brutes. There is a cer- 
tain perfection in the nature of each, consisting in the 
full development of all their powers, to which the ex- 
isting order manifestly tends. ..... As for suscepti- 
bility to pain, it is obviously essential to every part of 
corporeal life, and to discuss the question of degree is 
absurd. On the other hand, human capacity for sorrow 
is equally necessary to our whole moral nature, and 
sorrow itself is a most essential process for the perfect- 
ing of the soul.” * 

This, then, is the fine balm for all the anguish under 
which the world has been groaning for these thousands 
of years! But, first, how does suffering tend to the per- 
fection of the whole lower creation? It enfeebles, and 
at last destroys them, I know; but I am yet to learn 
that it is essential to the perfection of animal life. 
Again, how does it minister to that of man, except he 
be more than the insect of the day, of which Mr. New- 
man’s theology leaves him in utter doubt? And if he 
be immortal, how does it operate beneficially except as 
an instrument of moral improvement? And how rare- 
ly (comparatively) do we see that it has that effect! 
How often is it most prolonged and torturing in those 
who seem least to need it, and in those who are abso- 
lutely as yet incapable of learning from it; or, alas! are 
too evidently past learning from it! How often do we 
see, slowly sinking under the protracted agonies of con- 
ee eS SO ELS ant eT 

* Soul, pp. 43, 44. 


ve 


i 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 157 


sumption, cancer, or stone, all these various classes of 
mortals, without our being able to assign, or even con- 


fecture. the slightest reason for such ex eriments! «[ 
t b ten) 


acknowledge freely, that we can give no reasons for 
them; but it is to mock miserable humanity to give 
such reasons as these; doubly to mock it, if men be the 
ephemeral creatures which Mr. Newman’s theology 
leaves in such doubt; since in that case we see not only 
(what we see at any rate) that physical evil does not 
always, nor even in many instances, produce a salutary 
moral effect, but that it hardly matters whether it does 
or not; for just as the poor patient may be beginning 
to be benefited by his discipline, and generally in con- 
sequence of it, he is unluckily annihilated; he dies of 
his medicine! Surely, if physical evil be this grand 
elixir, never was such a precious balm so improvidently 
expended. We may well say, only with much more 
reason, what the Jews said of Mary’s box of ointment, — 
« Why was all this waste?” To be sure it is “given id 
in abundance “to the poor.” 

And, at the best, this exquisite reasoning gives no 
account whatever of that suffering which falls upon 


innocent infancy and childhood. It destroys them, 


however, and effectually prevents their attaining the 
« perfection ” which it is so admirable an instrument of 
developing, and that too before they can be morally 
benefited by the “ salutary ” sorrow it brings! 

“ Susceptibility to pain,” says Mr. Newman, “ is 
essential to corporeal being.” 

Yes, susceptibility to pain; just as a created being 
must be liable to annihilation. Must he be annihilated? 
Just as a hungry stomach must be liable to starvation. 
Must it be starved? The primary office of susceplibili- 
lies to pain would seem to be to forewarn us to provide 


against it. ‘They certainly have that effect. Does it 
14 


158 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


necessarily follow that they must involve anguish and 
death? Unless it be supposed, indeed, that nature, 
having provided such an admirable apparatus of “ sus- 
ceptibilities” of pain, thought it a thousand pities that 
they should not be employed. . 

But when it comes to “ moral evil,’ which Mr. New- 
man acknowledges cannot be so lightly disposed of, 
what then? 

Why, then he says, “ Let the Gordian knot be cut.” 

Well, what then? Why, then Mr. Newman frankly 
“assumes” that it is “transitory and finite,” * and will 
one day vanish from the universe, a supposition for 
which he condescends to give no reason whatever. 

Slat pro ratione voluntas. 

That this “moral evil” should have existed at all, 
much more to so immense an extent, under the admin- 
istration of supposed infinite power, wisdom, and beney- 
olence, is the great difficulty ; that it will ever cease to 
be, is a pure assumption for the nonce; but if it will 
one day entirely vanish, it is gratuitous to suppose it 
might not have been prevented. 

I, of course, acknowledge that we can_ give no 
answer to the questions involved in this transcendent 
mystery, —that our ignorance is absolute; but I do ~ 
say, that, if Iam to trust to those “intuitions” of the 
Divine Goodness, on whose warranty Mr. Newman 
and Mr. Parker reject the Bible, as containing what is 
unworthy of their conceptions of God, I am compelled 
to proceed further in the same direction ; and repudiate, 
as unworthy of Him, not merely some of the phenomena 
of the Book which men profess to be His word, but also 
some of the phenomena of that universe which men 
profess to be His work. If I can only judge, as these 


* Soul, p. 45. 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 159 


gentlemen urge, of such a Being by the analogies of my 
own nature, no “intuition ” of theirs can possibly seem 
stronger than do mine, that beings absolutely innocent 
ought not to suffer; that to inflict suffering upon them 
is injustice ; that to permit any evils which we can pre- 
vent is in like manner to be accomplices in the crime. 
On those very principles of all moral judgment which 
Mr. Newman says are innate and our only rule, I say 
I am compelled to these conclusions; for if God does 
those things which are ordinarily attributed to Him, 
He acts as much in contravention of these intuitions as 
in any acts attributed to Him in the Bible. If it be 
said, that there may be reasons for such apparent vio- 
lations of rectitude, which we cannot fathom, I deny it 
not; but that is to acknowledge that the supposed 
maxims derived from the analogies of our own being 
are most deceptive as applied to the Supreme; it is to 
remit us to an act of absolute faith, by which, with no 
greater effort, nor so great, we may be reconciled to 
similar mysteries of the Bible. But above all is it to 
do this, to say that the origin and permission of physi- 
eal and moral evil are inexplicable; and it is to double 
this demand on faith, to declare that it was all neces- 
sary,and could not be evaded in the construction of the 
universe even by infinite power, directed by infinite 
wisdom, and both animated by an infinite benevolence! 
As far as I can trust my reason at all, nothing seems 
more improbable; and if I receive it by a transcendent 
exercise of faith, I may, as before, give the Bible the 
benefit of a like act. I am compelled, therefore, on 
such principles, either to adopt a Manichean hypothesis 
of the universe, or do what I have done, — adopt none 
at all. 
I was talking to a friend on these subjects the other 
day: “Ah! but,” said he, “many of those difficulties 


160 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


you mention oppress every hypothesis, — Christianity 
just as much as the rest.” 

This, I replied, is no answer to me nor to you, if you 
have a particle of candor; still less is it one to the 
Christian, who consistently applies the same principle 
of absolute faith to things apparently a priori incredible, 
whether found in the works or in the word of God. 
But if you think the argument of any force, apply it to 
the next Christian you meet, and see what answer he 
will make to you; it will not trouble him. But it is far 
more ridiculous addressed to me. I ask for something 
in the place of that Bible of which the faithful applica- 
tion of your own principles deprives me; and when I 
affirm that the difficulties of the universe are no less 
than those of the Bible I have surrendered, you tell me 
that the perplexities of my new position are no greater 
than those of the old! That clearly will not do. I 
must go further. If I am to yield to pretensions of 
any kind, I would infinitely prefer the yoke of the 
Bible to that of Messrs. Parker and Newman; for it is - 
to nothing else than their dogmatism I must yield, if I 
admit that the difficulties which compel me to doub/ in 
the one case are less than those which compel me to 
doubt in the other. 

But it is not even true that the difficulties in ques- 
tion are left where they were by the adoption of any 
such theory as that of either Mr. Parker or Mr. New- 
man. I contend that they are all indefinitely increased. 
The Bible does at least give me a plausible account of 
some of the mysteries which baffle me: it tells me that 
man was created holy and happy; that he has fallen 
from his “excellent estate”; and hence the misery, ig- 
norance, and guilt in which he is involved, and which 
have rendered revelation necessary. 

But—and it brings me to the last step of my ar- 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 161 


eument—if I accept the theory of the universe pro- 
pounded by these writers, not only am I left without 
any such approximate solutions, or, if that be thought 
too strong a term, without any such alleviations, but all 
the difficulties as regards the character, attributes, and 
administration of God, are increased a thousand-fold. 
The Scripture account of the “ fall,” — however inexpli- 
cable it may be that God should have permitted it, — 
yet does expressly assert that, somehow or other, it is 
man’s fault, not God’s; that man is not in his normal 
condition, nor in the condition for which he was creat- 
ed. Dark as are the clouds which envelop the Divine 
Ruler, “their skirts are tinged with gold,” — pervaded 
and penetrated throughout their dusky depths by that 
mercy which assures us that, in some intelligible sense, 
this condition of man is contrary to the Divine Will, 
which, from the first, resolved to remedy it; and that 
a day is coming when what is mysterious shall be ex- 
plained, — so far, at least, that what has been “ wrong” 
shall be “righted.” But what is the theory of the uni- 
verse propounded by these writers? So hideous (I sol- 
emnly declare it) that I feel ten times more compelled 
to reject the universe as a work of an infinitely gracious, 
wise, and powerful Creator, than if the difhiculties had 
been simply left where the Bible leaves them. Accord- 
ing to their theory, man is now just what he was at 
first, — as he came from his Creator’s hand; or rather 
in some parts of the world (thanks to himself though) 
a little better than he was originally; that God cast 
man forth, so constituted by the unhappy mal-admix- 
ture of the elements of his nature, — with such an inev- 
itable subjection of the “ idea” to the “ conception,” of the 
“ spiritual faculty ” to “the degraded types,” — that for 
unnumbered ages — for aught we know, myriads of ages 


—man has been slowly crawling up, a very sloth in 
14 * 


162 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. / 


“ progress” (poor beast!), from the lowest Fetichism to 
Polytheism, — from Polytheism, in all its infinitude of 
degrading forms, to imperfect forms of Monotheism ; and 
how small a portion of the race have even imperfectly 
reached this last term, let the spectacle of the world’s 
religions at the present moment proclaim! From the 
more imperfect forms of Monotheism, the race is grad- 
ually to make “progress” to something else, — Heav- 
en knows what! but certainly something still far below 
the horizon, — still concealed in. the illimitable future. 
For this gradual transformation from the veriest relig- 
ious grub into the spiritual Psyche, man was expressly 
equipped by the constitution of his nature, — he was 
created this grub. For all this truly geological spinit- 
ualism, and for all the infinitude of hideous supersti- 
tions and cruel wrongs involved in the course of this 
precious development, Mr. Parker tells us there was a 
necessity, — nothing less! It was necessary, no doubt, 
for his logic, that he should say so; but, apart from his 
own argumentative exigencies, it is impossible even to 
imagine any necessity whatever. It was an “ ordeal,” it 
seems, through which man was obliged to pass. What 
is all this, ee to acknowledge hau unaccountable na- 
ture of the problem ? 

With this “religious” theory admirably coincides 
the hypothesis of man’s having been originally creat- 
ed a savage, from which he was gradually exalted to 
the lowest stages of civilization, —a theory which | 
thought had (in mere shame) been abandoned to some 
few Deists of the last century, or the commencement 
of this. It is true that these writers do not expressly 
indorse it; but it is easy to see that they favor it; and 
it is most certain that it alone is consistent with their 
parallel theory of man’s “religious development” from 
the vilest Fetichism to (shall we say?) a mythical 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 163 


Christianity ; though even, to that very few have yet 
arrived. According to this theory, the Great Father 
— supposed a being of infinite power, wisdom, and 
goodness — threw his miserable offspring on the face 
of the earth, with an admirable “ absolute religion,” no 
doubt, and an “admirable spiritual faculty,” but the 
“ idea ” so inevitably subject to thwarting “ conceptions,” 
and the “ spiritual faculty” so perpetually debauched by 
“awe and reverence,” and the whole rabble of emotions 
and affections with which it was to keep company, — 
in fact, with the elements of his nature originally so 
ill poised and compounded, — that everywhere and for 
unnumbered ages man has been doomed and necessi- 
tated, and for unnumbered ages will be doomed and ne- 
cessitated, to wallow in the most hideous, degrading, 
cruel forms of superstition, — inflicting and suffering 
reciprocally all the dreadful evils and wrongs which are 
entailed by them. [or this man was created; such a 
thing he was, — through this “ ordeal” he passes, — by 
original destination. If this be the picture of the Fa- 
ther of All, he is less kind to Ais offspring than the most 
intimate “intuitions” teach them to be to theirs. The 
voice of nature teaches them not to expose their chil- 
dren; the Universal Father, according to this theory, re- 
morselessly exposed his! Such a God, projected by the 
“spiritual faculties” of Mr. Newman and Mr. Parker, 
may be imagined to be a more worthy object of wor- 
ship than the “God of the Bible”: he shall never receive 
mine. If Iam to abjure the Bible because it gives me 
unworthy conceptions of the Deity, I must, with more 
reason, abjure, on similar grounds, such a detestable 
theory of man’s creation, destination, and history. 

As to that “ progress” which is promised for the fu- 
ture, it is like the necessity for the past, purely. an in- 
vention of Mr. Parker; if I receive it, I must receive it 


164 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


simply as matter of prophecy. If the necessity has 
continued so long, then, for aught I know, it may con- 
tinue for ever; the evil is all too certain, — the bright 
futurity is still a futurity. But if it ever became a re- 
ality, it would not neutralize one of the dark imputa- 
tions which such a theory of the original destination 
and creation of man casts on the Divine character; not 
to say, that, if Mr. Newman’s doubts of man’s immor- 
tality be well founded, that better future will be of no 
moreravail to the myriads of our race who have suf- 
fered under the long iron régime of necessity, than a re- 
prieve to the wretch who was executed yesterday ! 


I told Harrington I must have a copy of the paper 
he had just read. I should like, with his leave, to pub- 
lish it. 

“ O, and welcome,” said he. “ Only remember that 
its tendency is to show that there is no tenable resting- 
place between a revealed religion and none at all; be- 
tween the Bible and scepticism. If you make men 
sceptics, — mind, it is not my fault.” 

“TJ will take the risk,” said I. “I wish the contro- 
versy to be brought to the issue you have mentioned. 
I know there will never be many sceptics, any more 
than there will be many atheists; and if men are con- 
vinced that the Via Media is as hard to find as you sup- 
pose, — or as that between Romanism and Protestant- 
ism, — they will take refuge in the Bistz. And if it 
be the Boox or Gop indeed, this is the issue to which 
the great controversy will and ought to come. But 
how is it you were not tempted to become an atheist 
rather than a sceptic ?” 

“ Why,” said he, with a smile, “the great master 
of the Modern Academy had fortified me against that. 
ilume, you know, confesses that, if men be discovered 


THE VIA MEDIA OF DEISM. 165 


without any impression of a Deity,— genuine athe- 
ists, — we may assume that they will be found the most 
degraded of the species, and only one remove above the 
brutes. Now I have no wish to be set down in that 
category.” 

“ Very different,” said I, “is the account our modern 
atheists give of themselves: they are contending that 
the banishment of God from the universe, by one or 
other of the various theories of Atheism or Pantheism 
(which I take to be the same thing, with different 
names), is the tendency of all modern science, and that 
when that science is perfect, God will be no more.” 

“ My dear uncle,” replied Harrington, “ you are in- 
sufficiently informed in the mystery of modern theol- 
ogy. There are no atheists, properly speaking; they 
who are so called merely deny any personal, conscious, 
intelligent sovereign of the universe. Even those who 
call themselves so, and will have it that they are so, are 
told that they are none. I myself have pertised state- 
ments of some of our modern ‘spiritualists, who know 
every thing, even other people’s consciousness quite as 
well as their own (and perhaps better), that the said 
atheists are mistaken in thinking themselves such ; that 
such genuine love of the spirit of universal nature is 
something truly divine, and that they are animated by 
‘a deeply religious spirit” though they never suspected 
Bey 

“ Well,” said J, “if you had too much reason, as you 
flattered yourself (adopting Hume’s criterion), to be- 
come an atheist, could you not have adopted such views 
as those of Mr. G. Atkinson and Miss Martineau, who 
both possess surely (as they claim to possess) that ‘re- 
ligious reverence’ of nature of which you have just 
spoken ?” 

“ Why,” he replied, “Iam afraid that, if I had too 


166 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


much reason for the one, I have not faith enough for 
the other. That the miracles and prophecies of the 
Bible may possibly have been true, — only the effect of 
mesmerism; — that things quite as wonderful, or more 
so, happen every day by this wonderful agent ;— that 
every phenomenon that takes place does so in virtue of 
a perfectly wise Law, without any wise LAWGIVER ;— 
that this wise law has, it seems, prearranged that man 
should generally exhibit an inveterate tendency to re- 
ligious systems of some kind, though all religions are 
absurd, and persist in believing in his free will, though 
free from a downright impossibility ; — that these con- 
iradictions and absurdities of man are the result of an 
irreversible necessity, and yet that Mr. Atkinson may 
hope to correct them;— that, by the same necessity, 
man is in no degree culpable or responsible, and yet 
that Mr. Atkinson may perpetually blame him;— that 
no man can do any thing ‘ wrong,’ and yet that till he 
believes that, man will never cease to do it; — that peo- 
ple may read without their eyes, and distinguish colors 
as colors though they are born blind ; — that Bacon was 
an atheist, and that this may be proved by induction 
from his own writings;— these and other paradoxes, 
which I must believe, if I believe Mr. Atkinson, require 
a faith which it would really be unreasonable to expect 
from such a sceptic as I am.” 


July 18. Till three days ago, nothing since my last 
date has occurred having any special relation to the 
sole object of this journal. I was glad to escape on the 
13th to a quiet church some miles off, and, after a plain 
and simple, but earnest, sermon from a venerable cler- 
gyman (of whom I should like to know a little more), 
I further refreshed my spirit by a long and solitary 


A SCEPTIC’S SELECT PARTY. 167 


ramble of some hours through the beautiful scenery in 
the midst of which Harrington’s dwelling is situated. 
In the course of it, I reviewed my own early conflicts, 
and augured from them happier days for my beloved 
nephew. I went carefully over all the main points of 
the argument for and against the truth of Christianity, 
which in youth-had so often occupied me, and resolved 
that on some fair opportunity I would recount my 
story to him and Mr. Fellowes. I little thought then 
that I should have a larger and very miscellaneous 
audience to listen to me. But this will account for 
my not being to seek (as they say) when the occasion 
presented itself. | 

Three days ago (the 15th) a queer company assem- 
bled in Harrington’s quiet house. The conversations 
and incidents connected with that day have led me to 
take refuge for the last two mornings in the solitude of 
my own chamber, that I might, undisturbed, recall and 
record them with as much accuracy and fulness as 
possible. Very much, indeed, that I wished to remem- 
ber has vanished; but the substance of what too many 
said, as well as what I said myself, made too deep an 
impression to be easily obliterated. 

Be it known to you, my dear brother, that I have 
been not a little amused, I may even say instructed, by 
a trick played by your madcap nephew, for the honor 
and glory, I suppose, of his scepticism, or for some other 
motive, not easily divined. He promised me signifi- 
cantly an entertainment, in which I should enjoy the 
“feast of reason and the flow of soul,” by which I 
little thought that he was going to collect a rare party 
of “ Rationalists” and « Spiritualists,” in fact, repre- 
sentatives of all the more prominent forms, whether of 
belief or unbelief. I may as well call it the 


168 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


Sopptric’s Sevect Parry. 


You remember, I doubt not, the humorous paper in 
the Spectator, in which Addison introduces the whim- 
sical nobleman who used to invite to his table parties 
of men (strangers to one another) all characterized by 
some similar personal defect or infirmity. On one oc- 
casion, twelve wooden-legged men found themselves 
stumping into his dining-room, one after another, and 
making, of course, a terrible clatter; on another, twelve 
guests, who all had the misfortune to squint, amused 
their host with their ludicrous cross lights; and on a 
third, the same number of stutterers entertained him 
still more, not only by their uncouth impediment, but 
by the anger with which they began to sputter at one 
another, on the supposition that each was mocking his 
neighbor. A short-hand writer, behind the scenes, was 
employed to take down the conversation, which, says 
the witty essayist, was easily done, inasmuch as one of 
the gentlemen was a quarter of an hour in saying “ that 
the ducks and green peas were very good,” and another 
almost an equal time in assenting to it. At the conclu- 
sion, however, the derided guests became aware of the 
trick their entertainer had played upon them; and from 
their hands, quicker than their tongues, he was obliged 
to make a precipitate retreat. Our dinner-party of yes- 
terday did not break up in any such fracas, nor was the 
conversation so unhappily restricted. Yet the company 
was hardly better assorted. To bring it together, Har- 
rington ransacked his immediate circle, and Fellowes 
unconsciously recruited for him in the university town. 
Our host had provided for our mutual edification an 
Italian gentleman, with whom he had had some pleas- 
ant intercourse on the Continent, (by the way he spoke 
English uncommonly well,) and now staying with a 


A SCEPTIC’S SELECT PARTY. 169 


Roman Catholic in the neighborhood; this gentleman 
himself, with whom Harrington, by means of his former 
friend, has knocked up an acquaintance (he is a liberal 
Catholic of the true British species) ; our acquaintance, 
Fellowes, with his love of “insight” and « spiritual- 
ism”! a young surgeon from » @ rare, perhaps 
unique, specimen of conversion to certain crude atheis- 
tical speculations vu. Mr. Atkinson and Miss Martineau; 
~a young Englishman (an acquaintance of Harring- 
ton’s) Just fresh from Germany, after sundry semesters 
at Bonn and Tiibingen, five hundred fathoms deep in 
German philosophy, and who hardly came once to the 
surface during the whole entertainment; three Ra- 
tionalists (acquaintances of F ellowes), standing at 
somewhat different points in the spiritual thermome- 
ter, one a devoted advocate of Strauss: add to these a 
Deist, no unworthy representative of the old English 
school; one or two others further gone still; a Roman 
Catholic priest, an admirer of Father Newman, who 
therefore believes every thing; our sceptical friend Har- 
rington, who believes nothing; and myself, still fool 
enough to believe the Bible to be “ divine,” —and you 
will acknowledge that a more curious party never sat 
down to edify one another with their absurdities and 
contradictions. 

Questionable as was the entertainment for the mind, 
that for the body was unexceptionable. The dinner 
was excellent; our host performed his duties with ad- 
mirable tact and grace; and somehow speedily put 
every body at his ease. Relieved, according to the 
judicious modern mode, of the care of supplying the 
plates of his guests, he had eye, ear, and tongue for 
every one, and leisure to direct the conversation into 
what channel he pleased. He took care to turn it for 
some time on indifferent topics; and each man lost his 

15 


170 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


reserve and his frigidity almost before he was aware; 
so that, by the time dinner was fairly over, every one 
was ready for animated conversation. If any one began 
to have queer suspicions of his neighbors, he felt, as on 
board ship, that he was in for it, and bound, by common 
politeness, to make the best of it. 

The Deist, addressing himself to the Italian gentle- 
man, asked him if he fed heard lately from Taaly, He 
replied in the negative. 

“T can tell you some news, then,” said he. “ ‘They 
say that the head of the illustrious Guicciardini family 
has been just imprisoned at Florence, having been de- 
tected reading in Diodati’s Bible a chapter in the Gos- 
pel of St. John. Supposing the fact true, fora moment, 
may I ask if it would be the wish of the Roman Cath- 
olic Church, were she to regain her power in England, 
to imprison every one who was found reading a chap- 
ter in John? If so, England would have to enlarge 
her prisons.” 

“ Not much,” said one of the Rationalist gentlemen, 
laughing ; “for if things go on as they have done, there 
will not, in a few years, be many who will be found 
reading a chapter in John.” | 

“ Perhaps so,” said Harrington, smiling, “ but, if for 
tne reason you would assign, few will be found in 
church either; and the ecclesiastical authorities might 
perhaps put you in prison for that instead.” 

“QO, I will answer for him!” said the Deist, who 
knew something of his plasticity; “our friend is very 
accommodating, and though he would not like to go to 
church, he would still less like to go to prison. And to 
church he would go; and look very devout into the bar- 
gain. But, however, I should like to hear what your 
Italian guest has to say to my question.” 

The impatience of the English Catholic could not be 
repressed. 


A SCEPTIC’S SELECT PARTY. 171 


“ Tf,” said he, “the Roman Catholic religion were to 
regain its ascendency to-morrow, it would leave our 
entire code of laws, liberties, and privileges just as it 
found them; it is one of the many calumnies with 
which our Church is continually treated, to say that she 
would act otherwise ; and were it not so, I would im- 
mediately desert her.” 7 

The Catholic priest did not look well pleased with 
this frank avowal. 

“ I quite believe you,” said our host. “TI believe you 
are too much of an Englishman to say or to act other- 
wise.” 

“So do J,” said the Deist; “I moreover agree with | 
you, that, if the Roman Catholic religion were to regain 
her ascendency to-morrow, she would leave all our 
privileges intact ; but would she the next day, and the 
day after that? In other words, is it an essential prin- 
ciple with her to persecute, — as in this instance, to 
imprison for peeping between the leaves of the Bible, — 
orisit not? Do you think, Signor, that in such acts 
the principles of your Church are complied with or 
violated?” 

The Italian gentleman looked perplexed; he pre- 
sumed that the Catholic Church complied with the 
actual laws of every country; and if such country 
chose to deny religious liberty, the Church did not deem 
it requisite to declare opposition. 

“TI fear that is no answer to my question,” cried the 
other, a little cavalierly. “ It cannot serve you, Signor. 
It would not, indeed, serve you anywhere, for we 
know the anxiety with which Rome has expressly se- 
cured, in her recent concordat with Spain, the recogni- 
tion of the most intolerant maxims. But least can it 
serve you in the Papal States, where, unluckily for your 
observation, the Pope is monarch. Your remark would 


Lez THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


imply that your Church favored the principles of relig- 
ious liberty rather than otherwise, but did not deem it 
right to oppose the will of civil governments. Are we 
to understand by that, that the chief of the Papal States 
abhors as a Pope what he does as a sovereign? that 
in the one capacity he protests against what he allows 
in the other? No, no,” continued this somewhat 
brusque assailant, “ It is too late to talk in that way. If 
the Church of Rome really approve of religious liberty, 
— of such principles as those which govern England, — 
where are her protests and her efforts against intoler- 
ance and persecution where she still retains power? 
It.is the least that humanity can expect of her. If not, 
let her plainly say that, when she regains power in 
England, she will reform us to the condition of Spain 
and Italy in this matter. For my part, I frankly ac- 
knowledge, that I have more respect for a Roman Cath- 
olic who proclaims that it is inconsistent for his Church 
to lolerate where it has the power to repress, because I 
see that that is her uniform practice, and therefore ought 
to be her avowed maxim.” 

The Roman Catholic priest, who is a devoted admirer 
of Father Newman, said that he thought so too; and 
quoted some candid recent admissions to that effect 
from certain English Roman Catholic periodicals. “To 
employ,” said he, “the very words of a recent convert 
to us from the Anglican Church, ‘'The Church of Rome 
may say, I cannot tolerate you; it is inconsistent with 
my principles; but you can tolerate me, for it is not 
inconsistent with yours.’ ” 

The Deist remarked that it was straightforward; that 
he admired it. “ Though as an argument,” said he, “it 
is much as if a robber should say to an honest man 
on the king’s highway, ‘ How advantageously I am 
situated! You cannot rob me, for it is inconsistent 


A SCEPTIC’S SELECT PARTY. 73a 


with your principles; but I can rob you, for I have 
none.’ ” 

Another of the company observed that he feared it 
was in vain for the Church of Rome to contend that 
she was favorable to freedom of opinion, in any degree 
or form, so long as the “ Index Expurgatorius” was in 
existence, or such stringent means adopted to repress 
the circulation and perusal of the Scriptures. 

The liberal English Catholic again chafed at this 
last indictment. “It was,” he said, “another of the 
calumnies with which his Church was treated.” 

“ Hardly a calumny, my good sir,” replied the other, 
“in the face of such facts as that which gave rise to | 
the present conversation, of the encyclical letters of 
Pius VII, Leo XII., Gregory XVI., and many other 
Popes, and the well-known fact that it is impossible 
to obtain in Rome itself a copy of the Scriptures, ex- 
cept at an enormous price, and even then it must be 
read by special license. Pardon me,’ he continued, 
still addressing the English Catholic, “ I mean nothing 
offensive to you; but neither I nor any other English 
Protestant can consent to admit you sincerely liberal 
English Roman Catholics to be in a condition to give 
us the requisite information touching the maxims and 
principles of your Church. You have been too long 
accustomed to enjoy and revere religious liberty, not to 
imagine your Church sympathizes with it; you do not 
realize what she is abroad; and if you be sincere in con- 
demning such acts as that which led to this conversa- 
tion, as inconsistent with her genuine principles, why 
the ominous silence of you and your co-religionists in 
all such cases? Where are your protests and efforts ? 
How is it you do not denounce maxims and practices 
so rife throughout Papal Christendom, since you say 


you would denounce them, if it were attempted to real- 
15 * 


174 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. . 


ize them here? When you protest with one voice 
against these things as inconsistent (so you say) with 
the principles of your Church, and as therefore deeply 
dishonoring her, — whether your views on this point be 
right or wrong, — we shall at least admit you to have a 
title to give us an opinion on the subject.” 

“ Even then, though,” said the Deist, “we may still 
think it safer to consult the opinions, and, what is more, 
the practices, of the vast majority of the-Roman Catho- 
lic Church, and her conduct in the countries in which 
she holds undisputed sway, and therefore 1 am anxious 
to hear whether the Signor would justify imprisonment 
for reading the Bible.” 

Our host seemed to think that the conversation had 
proceeded in this direction quite far enough; aud lest 
his foreign guest should be made uncomfortable by 
these close inquiries, observed, sarcastically, that he 
was glad to find that the querists were so anxious to 
secure the inestimable privilege of freely reading the 
Scriptures. '“ It is the more admirable,” said he to the 
last speaker, “as Iam aware it is most disinterested ; 
you having too little value for the Scriptures to read 
them yourself. Sic vos non vobis: you labor for others. 
You remind me of the colloquy in the ‘ Citizen of the 
World, between the debtor in jail and the soldier 
outside his prison window. ‘They were discussing, you 
recollect, the chances of a French invasion. ‘For my 
part, cries the prisoner, ‘the greatest of my appre- 
hensions is for our freedom ; if the French should con- 
quer, what would become of English liberty?’ ‘It is 
not so much our liberties,’ says the soldier, with a pro- 
fane oath, ‘as our religion, that would suffer by such a 
change; ay, our on my lads !’” 

The company ney and the assailants forgot the 
former topics. Our host went on further to encourage 


A SCEPTIC’S SELECT PARTY. 175 


his foreign guest, though in a left-handed way, with a 
gravity which, if I had not known him, would not only 
have staggered, but even imposed upon me. 

“For my part,” said he, “my good Sir, if I were 
you, I should not hesitate to acknowledge at once that 
it is not only the true policy, but the solemn duty, of 
the Church of Rome to seclude as much as possible the 
Scriptures from the people.” The gentleman looked 
gratified, and the gnests were all attention. “ In my 
judgment much more can be said on behalf of the prac- 
tice than at first appears; and if I sincerely believed 
all you do, I should certainly advocate the most stringent 
measures of repression.” 

The foreigner began to look quite at his ease. “ For 
example,” continued Harrington, in a very quiet tone, 
“supposing I believed, as you do, that the Holy Virgin 
is entitled to all the honors which you pay her, so 
that, as is well known, in Italy and other couniries, 
she even eclipses her Son, and is more eagerly and 
fondly worshipped, — it would be impossible for me to 
peruse the meagre accounts given in the New Testa- 
ment of this so prominent an object of Catholic rever- 
ence and worship, — to read the brief, frigid, not to say 
harsh speeches of Christ, —to contemplate the stolid- 
ity of the Apostles with regard to her, throughout their 
Epistles, — never even mentioning her name, —I say 
it would be impossible for me to read all this without 
having the idea suggested that it was never intended 
that I should pay her such homage as you demand for 
her, or without feeling suspicious that the New Testa- 
ment disowned it and knew nothing of it.” 

“ Very true,” said the Italian; “ I must say that I have 
often felt that there is such a danger to myself.” 

“Similarly, what a shock would it perpetually be 
to my deep reverence for the spiritual head of the 


176 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


Church, and my conviction of his undoubted inherit- 
ance, from the Prince of the Apostles, of his august 
prerogatives, to find no trace of such a personage as 
the Pope in the sacred page,—the title of ‘ Bishop of 
Rome’ never whispered, — no hint given that Peter was 
ever even there! I really think it would be impossible 
to read the book without feeling my flesh creep and my 
heart full of doubt. Similarly, take that stupendous 
mystery of ‘transubstantiation’; though it seems suffi- 
ciently asserted in one text, which therefore it were 
well (as is, indeed, the practice with every pious Catho- 
lic) continually to quote alone, yet, when I look into 
other portions of the New Testament, I see how per- 
petually Christ is employing metaphors equally strong, 
without any such mystery being attached to them. I 
cannot but feel that I and every other vulgar reader 
would be sure to be exposed to the peril of suspecting 
that in that single case a metaphorical meaning was 
much more probable than so great a mystery.” 

“You reason fairly, my dear Sir,” said the Italian. 

“ Again,” continued Harrington, blandly bowing to 
the compliment, “ believing, as I should, in the efficacy 
of the intercessions of the saints, in the worship of 
images, in seven sacraments, in indulgences, and the 
necessity of observing a ritual incomparably more elab- 
orate than an undeveloped Christianity admitted, how 
very, very apt I should be to misinterpret many pas- 
sages, both in the Old Testament and the New! How 
is it possible that the vulgar reader should be able to 
limit the command not to bow down ‘to any graven 
image’ to its true meaning, — that is, ‘to any image’ 
except those of the Virgin and all the saints; to inter- 
pret aright the passages which speak so absolutely | 
about the one Mediator and Intercessor, when there are 
thousands! How will he be necessarily startled to find 


A SCEPTIC’S SELECT PARTY. 173 


‘seven’ sacraments grown out of ‘two’! how will he 
be shocked at the apparent — of course only apparent 
— contempt with which St. Paul speaks of ritual and 
ceremonial matters, of the futility of ‘fasts’ and dis- 
tinctions of ‘ meats and drinks, of observing ‘days and 
months and years, and so on. His whole language, 
. I contend, would necessarily mislead the simple into 
heresies innumerable. Of numberless texts, again, even 
if the meaning were not mistaken, the true meaning 
would never be discovered unless the Church had de- 
clared it. Who, for example, would have supposed 
that the doctrine of the Pope’s supremacy and universal 
jurisdiction lay hid under expressions such as ‘I say 
unto thee that thou art Peter, and ‘Feed my sheep’; 
or that the two swords of the Prince of the Apostles 
meant the temporal and spiritual authority with which 
he was invested? Under such circumstances, I must 
say, that, if I were a devout Catholic, I should plead for 
the absolute suppression of a book so infinitely likely — 
nay, so necessarily certain — to mislead.” 

“Tt is precisely on that ground,” said the Italian, 
“and on that ground only, the welfare of the Church, 
that our Holy Mother does not approve of the Bible 
being read generally. The true theory of the Roman 
Catholic Church would never be elicited from it.” 

“ Precisely so,” said our host, gravely; “Iam sure it 
could not.” 

“But then,” remarked our friend, the Deist, “since 
the Church of Rome holds this book to be the inspired 
revelation of God to mankind, is it not singular to say 
that this ‘revelation’ requires to be carefully concealed 
from mankind; that the Bible is invaluable, indeed, but 
only while it is unread; and that, in fact, the Church 
knows herself better than Jesus Christ himself did? for 
in that book we are supposed to have the words of 


178 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


Him and her founders, and yet it seems they could only 
mislead! ‘Never man spake like this man, may well 
be said of Christ, if this were true.” 

“Never mind him, Signor,’ said our host. “He 
secretly cannot but approve of your end, though he dis- 
approves the means.” The Deist looked surprised. 

“ Why, have you not sometimes said that you be- 
lieve the Bible to be, in many respects, a most. per- 
nicious book? that many of the most obstinate and 
dangerous prejudices of mankind are principally due 
to it? and that you wish it were in your power to de- 
stroy it?” 

“ Well, I certainly have thought so, if not said so.” 

“Then you approve of the end, though you disap- 

prove of the means. You ought to thank our friend 
ere, and regret that his work is not done more effectu- 
ally. But enough of this. I must not have my re- 
spected Roman Catholic guests alone put on the de- 
fensive. The Signor fairly tells us what his system is 
in relation to the Bible, and why he would place it 
under lock and key; he tells you also what. better 
*hing he substitutes when he removes the Bible. I 
eally think it is but fair and candid in you to do as 
much. I know you all believe that you are not only 
in quest of religious truth, but have found it to some 
extent or other:—+ for my own part I am exempted 
from speaking; for I have given over the search in 
despair.” 

This frank acknowledgment was followed by some 
highly curious conversation, of which I regret my in- 
ability to recall all the particulars. Suffice it to say, 
that there were not two who were agreed either as to 
the grounds on which Christianity was deemed a thing 
of naught, or on what was to be substituted in its 
place; one even had his doubts whether any thing need 


A SCEPTIC’S SELECT PARTY. 179 


be substituted, and another thought that any thing 
might be. One of the Rationalists was a little offended 
at being supposed willing to “abandon” the Bible at 
all; he declared, on the contrary, his unfeigned rever- 
ence for the New Testament at least, as containing, in 
larger mass and purer ore than any other book in the 
world, the principles of ethical truth; that he was will- 
ing even to admit—with exquisite naivelé —that it 
was inspired in the same sense in which Plato’s Dia- 
logues and the Koran were inspired; he merely dis- 
pensed with all that was supernatural and miraculous 
and mystical! The Deist laughed, and told him that 
he believed just as much, if that constituted a Chris- 
tian. “I believe,” said he, “that the New Testament 
is quite as much inspired as the Koran of Mahomet; 
and that it contains more of ethical truth (however it 
came there) than is to be found in any other book of 
equal bulk. But,” he proceeded, “if you dispense with 
all that is miraculous in the facts, and all that is pecu- 
liar and characteristic in the doctrines, —that is, all 
which discriminates Christianity from any other relig- 
ion, — I am afraid that your Christianity is own born 
brother to my Infidelity. As for your reverence for this 
inspired book, since you must reject ninety per cent. of 
the whole, it seems to me very gratuitous; equally sO, 
whether you suppose the compilers believed or disbe- 
lieved the facts and doctrines you reject; if the former, 
and they were deceived, they must have been inspired 
idiots; if the latter, and were deceiving others, they 
were surely inspired knaves. For my part,’ he con- 
tinued, “while I hold that the book somehow does 
unaccountably contain more of the morally true and 
beautiful than any book of equal extent, I also hold 
that Christianity itself is a pure imposture from begin- 
ning to end.” 


180 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


This coarse avowal of adherence to the elder, and, 
after all, more intelligible deism, brought down upon 
him at once two of the company. One was the dis- 
ciple of Strauss (I mean as regards his theory of the 
origin of Christianity, not as regards his Pantheism) ; 
the other a Rationalist, with about the same small tat- 
ters of Christianity fluttering about him, but who was 
a little disposed, like so many German theologians, to 
consider Strauss as somewhat passé. Unhappily, they 
got athwart each other’s bows shortly after they came 
into action. They both enlarged—really in a very 
edifying manner, I could have listened to them for 
an hour—on the absurdity of the Deist’s argument 
“What!” cried one; “the purest system of ethics 
from the most shameless impostors!” “ And what do 
you make of the infinitely varied and inimitable marks 
of simplicity and honesty in the writers?” cried the 
other. “ And who does not see the impossibility of 
getting up the miracles so as to impose upon a world of 
bitter and prejudiced enemies in open day?” exclaimed 
the Rationalist. “They were obviously mere myths,” 
cried the Straussian. “ That I must beg to doubt,” 
said the other. And now, as they proceeded to give 
each his own solution of the difficulty, the scene be- 
came comic in the extreme. The Rationalist ridiculed 
the notion that nations and races, all of whom, in the 
nature of things, must have been prejudiced against 
such myths as those of Christianity, could originate or 
would believe them; and still more, the notion that in 
so short a space of time these wildest of wild legends 
(if legends at all) could induce the world to acquiesce 
in them as historic realities!’ In his zeal he even said, 
that, though not altogether satisfied with it, he would 
sooner believe all the frigid glosses by which the school 
of Paulus had endeavored to resolve the miracles into 


A SCEPTIC’S SELECT PARTY. 181 


misunderstood “natural phenomena.” As the dispute 
- became more animated between these three champions, 
they exhibited a delicate trait of human nature, which 
I saw our sceptical host most maliciously enjoyed. 
Each became more anxious to prove that his mode of 
proving Christianity false was the true mode, than to 
prove the falsehood of Christianity itself. “TI tell you 
what,” said the Straussian, with some warmth, “ sooner 
than believe all the absurdities of such an hypothesis 
as that of Paulus, I could believe Christianity to be 
what it professes to be.” “I may say the same of that 
of Strauss,” said the other, with equal asperity; “if I 
had no better escape than his, | could say to him, as ) 
Agrippa to Paul, ‘ Almost thou persuadest me to be a 
Christian’ ” “ For my part,’ exclaimed the Deist, who 
was perfectly contented with his brief solution, — the 
difficulties of the problem he had never had the patience 
to master, —“I should rather say, as Festus to Paul, 
‘Much learning has made you both mad’: and sooner 
than believe the impossibilities of the theory of either, — 
sooner than suppose men honestly and guilelessly to 
have misled the world by a book which you and I ad- 
mit to be a tissue of fables, legends, and mystical non- 
sense, — I could almost find it in my heart to go over 
to the Pope himself.” 

“ Good,” whispered our host to me, who sat at his 
left hand; “we shall have them all becoming Chris- 
tians, by and by, just to spite one another.” The 
admirer of Mr. Atkinson and Miss Martineau here 
reminded the company that the miracles of the New 
Testament might be true, — only the result of mesmer- 
ism. “ Christ,’ said he, “to employ the words of Mr. 
Atkinson, was constitutionally a clairvoyant..... 
Prophecy and miracle and. inspiration are the effects 


of abnormal conditions of man.... . Prophecy, clair- 
16 


182 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


voyance, healing by touch, visions, dreams, revelations, 

- are now known to be simple matters in nature, 
which may be induced at will, and experimented upon 
at our firesides, here in England (climate and. other 
circumstances permitting), as well as in the Holy 
Land.” * But no one -seemed prepared to receive this 
hypothesis. At last our host, addressing the Deist, 
said, “ But you forget, Mr. M., that, though you find it 
insurmountably difficult to conceive a book full of lies 
(as you express it) to have been, consciously or uncon- 
sciously, the product of honest and guileless minds, 
you ought to find it a little difficult to conceive a book 
(as you admit the New Testament to be) of profound 
moral worth produced by shameless impostors. But 
let that pass. Let us assume that Christianity, as a 
supernaturally revealed and miraculously authenticated 
system, is false, though you are dolefully at variance as 
to how it is to be proved so; let us assume, I say, that 
this system is false, and dismiss it. I am much more 
anxious to hear what is the positive system of religious 
truth, which you are of course each persuaded is the 
true one. I have left off to ‘seek,’ but if any one will 
find the truth for me without my ‘seeking’ it, how re- 
joiced shall I be!” 

Painful as were the “revelations” which ensued, I 
would not have missed them on any account. “ In vino 
verttas,” says the proverb which on this occasion lied 
most vilely ; yet it was true jin the only sense in which 
“veritas” is there used; for there was unbounded can- 
dor and frankness, under the inspiring hospitality of 
our host, aided by his skilful management of the con- 
versation. Nor was there, I am bound to say, much 
of coarse ribaldry, even from the free-spoken repre- 


ae a eee ee 
* He cited the substance of these sentiments. I have since referred to, 
and here quote, the ipsissima verba. See “Letters,” &c., pp. 175, 212. 


A SCEPTIC’S SELECT PARTY. 183 


sentative of the Tindals and Woolstons of other days. 
But the varieties of judgment and opinion in that 
small company were almost numberless. Fellowes, 
and two of the Rationalists, were firm believers in the 
theory of “insight”; that the human spirit derives, by 
immediate intuition from the “ depths” of its conscious- 
ness, a “revelation of religious and spiritual truth.” 
They differed, however, as to several articles; but es- 
pecially as to the little point, whether the fact of man’s 
future existence was amongst the intimations of man’s 
religious nature; one contending that it was, another 
that it was not, and Fellowes, as usual, with several — 
more of the company, declaring that their conscious- 
ness told them nothing about the matter either way. 
But when some one further declared, amidst these 
very disputes, that this internal revelation was so clear 
and plain as not only to anticipate and supersede any 
“external” revelation, but to render it “impossible ” 
to be given, our host suddenly broke out into a fit of 
laughter. The disputants were silent, and every one 
looked to him for an explanation. He seemed to feel 
that it was due, and, after apologizing for his rude- 
ness, said, that, while some of therh were asserting man’s 
clear internal revelation, he could not help thinking of 
the whimsical contrast presented by the diversified 
speculations and opinions of even this little party, and 
the infinitely more whimsical contrast presented by the 
gross delusions of polytheism and superstition, which in 
such endless variations of form and unchanging identity 
of folly had misled the nations of the earth for so many 
thousands of years. “ And just then,” said he, “it 
occurred to me what a curious commentary it would 
be on the asserted unity and sufficiency of ‘internal 
revelation, if the ‘Great Exhibition of the Industry 
of all Nations’ were followed up by a ‘ Great Exhibi- 


184 . THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


tion of the Idolatry of all Nations’ under the same roof. 
Thither might be brought specimens of the ingenious 
handicraft of men in the manufacture of deities; we 
might have the whole process, in all its varieties, com- 
plete; the raw material of a God in a block of stone or 
wood, and the most finished specimen in the shape of a 
Phidian Jupiter; the countless bits of truampery which 
Fetichism has ever consecrated; the divine monsters 
of ancient Egypt, and the equally divine monsters 
of modern India; the infinite array of grim deformities 
hallowed by American, Asiatic, and African super- 
stition. I imagined, notwithstanding the vastness of 
that Crystal Pantheon, there would still be crowds of 
their godships who would be obliged to wait outside, 
having come too late to exhibit their perfections to ad- 
vantage. However, as 1 went in fancy up the long 
aisles, and saw, to the right and the left, the admiring 
crowds of worshippers, grimacing, and mowing, and 
prostrating themselves, with a folly which might lead 
one reasonably to suppose, that, miserable as were the 
gods, they were gods indeed compared with such wor- 
shippers, J imagined my worthy friend Fellowes in the 
corner where the Bible, in its 120 languages, is now 
kept, employed in delivering a lecture on the admirable 
clearness of those intuitions of spiritual truth which 
constitute each man’s particular oracle, and the super- 
fluity of all ‘external’ revelation. ‘This was, I confess, 
a little too much for my gravity, and I was involunta- 
rily guilty of the rudeness for which I now apologize.” 
It was certainly a ridiculous vision enough; and we 
made ourselves very merry by pursuing it for a little 
while. 

Presently the company resumed their solutions of the 
great problem. ‘The Deist remarked, “ that one and 
only one thing was plain, and indubitable,’ — for he 


A SCEPTIC’S SELECT PARTY. 185 


was a dogmatist in his way ;— it was, “that intellect 
and power to an indefinite extent had been at work in 
the universe, but whether the Being to whom these 
attributes belonged took any cognizance of man, or his 
actions, he had never been able to make up his mind.” 
“ Yet surely it does make a slight difference,” said Har- 
rington, “since if God takes no cognizance of man, 
then,-as Cicero long ago remarked of the idle dogs of 
Epicurus, — I mean gods of Epicurus, I beg their par- 
don, but really it does not matter which consonant 
comes first,— atheism and deism are much the same 
thing.” “ Why,” said the Deist, “there is as much dif- 
ference as in the theories of our ‘intuitional’ friends 
here, one of whom admits, and another denies, the 
future existence of man; for if we be the ephemeral 
insects the latter supposes, it little matters what system 
of religion we espouse or abjure. However, I am clear 
that, if God require any duty of us, it is that we should 
reverence him as the Creator of all things, — prayer to 
him is an absurdity,—and perform those offices of 
honest men which are so clearly the dictates of con- 
science, — the reward and punishment being exclusively 
the result of present. Jaws.” 

“ Which laws,” said his next neighbor, “ often secure 
no reward or punishment at all, —or rather, often give 
the reward to the vice of man, and the punishment to 
his virtue.” “ Very true,” rejoined the Deist, “and I 
must say,’—sagely shaking his. head, —“that such 
things make me often suspect the whole of that slippery, 
uncertain thing called ‘natural religion, whether as 
taught by the elder deists or modified by our modern 
spiritualists. Surely they may be abundantly charged 
with the same faults with which they tax the Christian ; 
for they are full of interminable disputes about the 


‘truths or ‘sentiments’ of their theology.” 
16* 


186 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


One of those who had gone further than our Deist 
felt disposed to question all “ immutable morality ” and 
original “ dictates of conscience,” “I doubi,’ said he, 
“whether those dictates are any clearer than those 
dogmas of ‘natural religion’ which have been so justly 
oppugned ; and I judge so for the same reason, — the 
endless disputes of men with regard to the source, 
the rule, the obligation of what they call duty; and 
which are exactly similar to the disputes which we 
charge upon the Natural Religionist and the Christian.” 
And here he ran through half a dozen of the two score 
theories which the history of ethics presents, making 
rare work with Plato and Aristotle, Hobbes, Cudworth, 
Mandeville, and Bentham. ‘“ Meantime,” he conclud- 
ed, “ we do see, in point of fact, that the moral rule is 
most flexible, and to an indeterminate degree the creature 
of association, custom, and education, so that I am in- 
clined to think that that alone is obligatory which the 
positive laws and institutions of any society render 
binding.” “So that,” cried Harrington, “a man both 
may and ought to thieve in ancient Sparta, may expose 
his parents in Hindostan, and commit infanticide in 
China!” “It isa pity,” archly whispered the Italian 
guest, “that this gentleman was not born in China.” 

“Tt is a respectable, but very old speculation,” said 
Harrington, “ of which many ancient moralists avowed 
themselves the advocates, but of which it is only fair to 
admit that Plato and many other heathens were heartily 
ashamed.” 

It seemed as if the bathos of theological and ethical 
absurdity could not lie deeper; but I was mistaken. 
The admirer of Mr. Atkinson declared with great mod- 
esty that he thought, as did his favorite author, that the 
whole world had been mad on the subject of theology 

‘and morality ;—- that the prime error consisted in the 


A SCEPTIC’S SELECT PARTY. 187 


superficial notion of a Personal Deity, and the foolish 
attribution of the notion of “sin” and “ crime” to 
human motives and conduct, instead of regarding the 
former as a name of an absolutely unknown cause of 
the entire phenomena of the universe, and the latter as 
part of a series of rigidly necessary antecedents and 
consequents, for which man is no more to be either 
blamed or praised than the sun for shining or the ava- 
lanche for falling; he added, that only in this way could 
man attain peace. “ As Mr. Atkinson beautifully says, 
‘ What a hopeful and calming influence has such a con- 
templation of nature! At this moment it is not I, but 
the nature within me, that dictates my speech and 
guides my pen. Iam what I am. I cannot alter my 
will, or be other than what I am, and cannot deserve 
either reward or punishment.’ But I feel with him, 
‘We may preach these things, and men may think us 
mad or something worse.’ ” * 

“ And perhaps justly,” said Harrington, with a laugh, 
“for nature has surely, after so many thousands of 
years, let you know what her daw is, and you say that 
that law is necessary and irreversible, and yet you 
strive to alter it! You had better leave men to their 
necessary absurdities.” 

“ Nay,” said the other, “as Mr. Atkinson says, from 
the recognition of a universal law we shall develop a 
universal love; the disposition and ability to love with- 
out offence or ill-feeling towards any; or, as Miss 
Martineau represents it, —- When the mind has com- 
pletely surmounted every idea of a personal God, of 
a supreme will, ‘what repose begins to pervade the 
mind! What clearness of moral purpose naturally en- 
sues! and what healthful activity of the moral facul- 


—— $$ er 


* Pp. 190, 191. 


188 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


LES ERD 58 What a new perception we obtain of the 
“beauty of holiness,’ —the loveliness of a healthful 
moral condition, — accordant with the laws of nature, 
and not with the requisitions of theology!’ ” + 

I got him afterwards to show me these passages, for 
I could hardly believe that he had quoted them right. 

“And as for morality,” continued he, “the knowl- 
edge which mesmerism gives of the influence of body on 
body, and consequently of mind on mind, will bring 
about a morality we have not yet dreamed of. And 
who shall disguise his nature and his acts when we 
cannot be sure at any moment that we are free from 
the clairvoyant eye of some one who is observing our 
actions and most. secret thoughts; and our whole char- 
acter and history may be read off at any moment!” $ 

What an admirable substitute, thought J, for the 
idea of an omnipresent and omniscient Deity! Who 
will not abstain from lying and stealing when he thinks 
there is possibly some clairvoyant at the antipodes in 
mesmeric rapport with his own spirit, and perhaps, by 
the way, in very sympathizing rapport, if the clatrvoy- 
ant happen to be in Australia ? | 

It was at this point that our young friend from 
Germany broke in. “IT hold that you are right, Sir,” 
he said to the last speaker, “in saying that God is not 
a person; but then it is because, as Hegel says, he 
is personality itself, —the universal personality which 
realizes itself in each human consciousness, as a sepa- 
rate thought of the one eternal mind. Our idea of the 
absolute is the absolute itself; apart from and out of 
the universe, therefore, there is no God.” 

“J think we may grant you that,” said Harrington, 
laughing. 


——.___. 


* P9219 t P. 219. tH. G. A. to H. M, p. 280. 


A SCEPTIC’S SELECT PARTY. 189 


“ Nor,” continued the other, “ is there any God apart 
from the universal consciousness of man. He ——”’ 

“ Ought you not to say it?” said Harrington. 

“ Tt, then,” said our student, “is the entire process 
of thought combining in itself the objective movement 
in nature with the logical subjective, and realizing itself 
in the spiritual totality of humanity. He (or it, if you 
will) is the eternal movement of the universal, ever 
raising itself to a subject, which first of all in the sub- 
ject comes to objectivity and a real consistence, and 
accordingly absorbs the subject in its abstract individ- 
uality. God is, therefore, not a person, but personality 
itself.” 

Nobody answered, for nobody understood. 

“Q. E. D.,” said Harrington, with the utmost gravity: 

‘Thus encouraged, our student was going on to show 
how much more clear Hegel’s views are than those of 
Schelling. “ The only real existence,” he said, “is the 
relation; subject and object, which seem contradictory, 
are really one,—not one in the sense of Schelling, as 
opposite poles of the same absolute existence, but one 
as the relation itself forms the very idea. Not but 
what in the threefold rhythm of universal existence 
there are affinities with the three potencies of Schel- 
ling; but ? 

“Take a glass of wine,’ said Harrington to his 
young acquaintance, “take a glass of wine, as the 
Antiquary said to Sir Arthur Wardour, when he was 
trying to cough up the barbarous names of his Pictish 
ancestors, ‘and wash down that bead-roll of unbaptized 
jargon which would choke a dog,’ ” 

We laughed, for we could not help it. 

Our young student looked offended, and muttered 
something about the inaptitude of the English for a 
deep theosophy and philosophy. 


190 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“ It is all very well,” said he, “ Mr. Harrington ; but- 
it is not in this way that the profound questions which, 
under some aspects, have divided such minds as Fichte, 
Schelling, and Hegel; and under others, Goschel, Hin- 
richs, Erdmann, Marieaiee Schaller, Gabler «| 

Harrington burst out laughing. “ They divide a 
good many philosophers of that last name in England 
also,” said he. 

“ Why, what have Isaid?” RIERA the other, looking 
surprised and vexed. 

“ Nothing at all,” said Beer rare still laughing. 
“ Nothing that I know of; I am sure I may with truth 
affirm it. But I beg your pardon for laughing; only I 
could not help it, at finding you like so many other 
young philosophers born of German theology and phi- 
losophy, attempting to frighten me by a mere roll-call 
of formidable names. Why, my friend, it is because 
these things have, as you say, divided these great minds 
so hopelessly, that I am in difficulty ; if the philosophers 
had agreed about them, it would have been another 
story. One would think, to hear them invoked, by 
many a youth here, that these powerful minds had con- 
vinced one another; instead of that, they have simply 
confounded one another. It was the very spectacle of 
their interminable disputes and distractions in philoso- 
phy and theology,—ever darker and darker, deeper 
and deeper, as system after system chased each other 
away, like the clouds they resemble through a winter 
sky ;— I say it was the very spectacle of their distrac- 
tions which first made me a sceptic; and I think I am 
hardly likely to be reconvinced by the mere sound of 
their names, ushered in by vague professions of pro- 
found admiration of their profundity! The praise is 
often oddly justified by citing something or other, 
which, obscure enough in the’ original, is absolute dark 


A SCEPTIC’S SELECT PARTY. 191 


ness when translated into English; and must, like 
some versions I have seen of the classics, be examined 
in the original, in order to gain a glimpse of its mean- 
ing.” 

The student acknowledged that there was certainly 
much vague admiration and pretension amongst young 
Englishmen in this matter; but thought that pro- 
founder views were to be gathered from these sources 
than was generally acknowledged. 

“ Very well,” replied Harrington; “I do not deny 
it, perhaps it is so; and whenever you choose to justify 
that opinion by expressing in intelligible English the 
special views of the special author you think thus » 
worthy of attention, whether he be from Germany or 
Limbuctoo, [humbly venture to say that I will (so far 
from laughing) examine them with as much patience as 
yourself. Butif you wish to cure me of laughing, I 
beseech you to refrain from all vague appeals to whole- 
sale authority. 

“The most ludicrous circumstance, however,’ he 
continued, “ connected with this German mania is, that 
in many cases our admiring countrymen are too late 
in changing their metaphysical fashions; so that they 
sometimes take up with rapture a man whom the Ger- 
mans are just beginning to cast aside. Our servile 
imitators live on the crumbs that fall from the German 
table, or run off with the well-picked bone to their ken- 
nel, as if it were a treasure, and growl and show their 
teeth to any one that approaches them, in very super- 
fluous terror of being deprived of it. It would be 
well if they were to imitate the importers of Parisian 
fashions, and let us know what is the philosophy or 
theology @ la mode, that we may not run a chance of 
appearing perfect frights in the estimate even of the 
Germans themselves.” 


192 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


Coffee was here brought in; and Harrington said, 
“Thank you, gentlemen, for your candor, though your 
unanimity does not seem very admirable. In one sen- 
timent, indeed, you are pretty well agreed, — that the 
Bible is to be discarded; though you are infinitely at 
variance, as to the grounds on which you think so; our 
Catholic friends deeming it too precious to be intrusted 
to every body’s hands, and the rest of you, as a gift not 
worth receiving. But as to the systems you would 
substitute in its place, they are so portentously various 
that they are hardly likely to cure me of my scepticism ; 
nor even my worthy relative here” — pointing to me — 
“of his old-fashioned orthodoxy. He will say, ‘ Much 
as we theologians differ as to the interpretation of 
Scripture, our differences are neither so great nor so 
formidable as those of these gentlemen. I had better 
remain where I am.’” 

Several of the guests stared at me as they would at 
the remains of a megatherium. 

“Ts it possible,” said one at last, “that you, Sir, can 
retain a belief in the divine inspiration of the Bible, — 
excluding incidental errors of transcription and so on?” 

“ It is not only possible,” said I, “ but certain.” 

“ Do you mean,” said the other, “that you can give 
satisfactory answers to the objections which can be 
brought against various parts of it ?” . 

“ By no means,” said I; “ while I think that many 
may be wholly solved, and more, partially, I admit there 
are some which are altogether insoluble.” 

“Then why, in the name of wonder, do you retain 
your belief?” 

“ Because I think that the evidence for retaining it 
is, on the whole, stronger than the evidence for relin- 
quishing it; that is, that the objections to admitting 
the objections are stronger than the objections them- 
selves.” 


A SCEPTIC’S SELECT PARTY. 193 


“But how-do you manage in a controversy with an 
opponent as to those insoluble objections ?” 

“T admit them.” 

“Then you allow his position to be more tenable and 
reasonable than yours?” 

“ No,” said I; “I take care of that.” 

“ How so?” 

“T transfer the war, my good Sir; a practice which 
I would recommend to most Christians in these days. 
When I meet with an opponent of the stamp you refer 
to, who thinks insoluble objections alone are sufh- 
cient reasons for rejecting any thing, I say to him, ‘ My 
friend, this Christianity, if so clearly false, is not 
worth talking about: let us quit it. But as you admit, 
with me, that religious truth is of great moment, and as 
you think you have it, pray oblige me by your system.’ 
To tell you the truth, I never found any difficulty in 
propounding plenty of insoluble objections; but if you 
think differently, you or any gentleman present can 
make experiment of the matter now.” 

“ Nay, my dear uncle,” said Harrington, “you are 
invading my province. It is I only who can consist- 
ently challenge all comers; like the ancient Scythians, 
I have every thing to gain and nothing to lose.” 

Whether it was out of respect for the host, or that 
each felt, after the recent disclosures, that he would not 
only have Harrington and myself, but every body else, 
down upon him, nobody accepted this challenge. 

At last one of them said he could not even yet 
comprehend how it was that I could remain an old- 
fashioned believer in these days of “progress.” “ It 
was infidelity itself”? I replied, “that early robbed me 
of the advantages of being an infidel.” 

Several expressed their surprise, and I told them that, 
after we had taken tea in the drawing-room (to which 

17 


194 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


we were then summoned), I would, if they felt any cu- 
riosity upon the matter, and would allow a little scope 
to the garrulity of an old man, tell them 


How 17 was THAT INFIDELITY PREVENTED MY 
BECOMING AN INFIDEL. 


Arter tea I gave my story, as nearly as I can recol- 
lect, in the following way. Of course I cannot recall the 
precise words; but the order of the thoughts —how 
often have they been pondered! — I cannot be mistaken 
about. 


It is now thirty years ago or more since I was pass- 
ing through many of the mental conflicts in which I see 
so many of the young in the present day involved. I 
have no doubt that the majority of them will come out, 
probably after an eclipse more or less partial, very ortho- 
dox Christians, — so great are the revolutions of opinion 
which an experience of human life and the necessities 
of the human heart work upon us! As I look around 
me, I see few of my youthful contemporaries who have 
not survived their infidelity. 

Far be it frem me—(I spoke in a tone which, I 
imagine, they hardly knew whether to take as compli- 
ment or irony) —to affirm that the infidels of this day 
are like those I knew in my youth. I have no hesita- 
tion in saying of us, that a perfectly natural recoil — 
partly intellectual and partly moral — from the swper- 
natural history, the peculiar doctrines, but, above all, 
the severe morality of the New Testament, was at the 
bottom of our unbelief. I have long felt that the re- 
ception of that book on the part of any human being 
is not the least of its proofs that it is divine, for lam 


DILEMMAS OF AN INFIDEL NEOPHYTR. 195 


persuaded there never was a book naturally more re- 
pulsive either to the human head or heart. All the 
prejudices of man are necessarily arrayed against it. 
[felt these prejudices, I am now distinctly conscious ; 
nor was | insensible to the palpable advantages of infi- 
delity ; — its accommodating morality; its large margin 
for the passions and appetites; its doubts of any future 
world, or its certainty that, if there were one, it would 
prove a universal paradise (for doubts and certainties 
are equally within the compass of human wishes); the 
absolute abolition of hell and every thing like it. I say 
I saw clearly enough the advantages which infidelity 
promised, and I acknowledge I was not insensible to 
them. I think no young men are likely to be. 

I do not insinuate that similar advantages have any 
thing to do with those many peculiar revelations of 
religion which different oracles have in our day substi- 
tuted for the New Testament. The arguments against 
Christianity, indeed, I do not find much altered; the 
substitutions for it, though distractingly various, are, I 
confess, in some respects different. Nay, we see that 
many of our “spiritualists” complain chiefly of the 
moral and spiritual deficiencies of Christianity ; they are 
afraid, with Mr. Newman, of the conscience of man 
being pepressep to the Bible standard! So that we 
must suppose that the aims of some, at least, of our 
infidel reformers, are prompted by a loftier ideal of 
“spiritual” purity than Christianity presents! 

It certainly was not so then; I felicitate some of you, 
gentlemen, on being so much holier and wiser, not only 
than we were, but even than Christ and his Apostles. 

I have said I was not insensible to the advantages 
of infidelity; but nature had endowed me with pru- 
dence as well as passions; and I wanted evidence for 
what appeared to me its most gratuitous philosophy of 


196 THB ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


the future, — for its too uncertain doubts of all futurity, 
and its too doubtful certainty of none but a happy one! 
IT also wanted evidence of the falsehood of Christianity 
itself. As to the former, I shall not trouble you with 
my difficulties; there were indeed then, as now, an ad- 
mirable variety of theories; but if I could have been 
convinced of the futility of the claims of Christianity, | 
believe I should have. been easily satisfied as to a sub- 
stitute; or rather, unable to decide between Chubb and 
Bolingbroke, Voltaire and Rousseau, I should most 
likely have tossed up for my religion. 

It was the distractions with regard to the evidences 
of Christianity that ruined me; and at last condemned 
me to be a Christian. 

I was first troubled, like so many in our day, about 
the miracles. I could hardly bring my mind to believe 
them. One day, talking with a jovial fellow whom'l 
casually met (not of very strong mind indeed, but who 
made up for it by very strong passions) over the improb- 
ability of such occurrences, he exclaimed, as he mixed 
his third glass of brandy and water, “ | only wonder how 
any one can be such a fool as to believe in any stuff of 
that sort? Do you think that, if the miracles had been 
really wrought, there could have been any doubters of 
Christianity?” He tossed off the brandy and water 
with a triumphant air; and I quite forgot his argument 
in compassion for his bestiality. I expostulated with 
him. “ You may spare your breath, Mr. Solomon,” said 
he. ‘ May this be my poison (as it will be my poison),” 
mixing a fourth glass, “if I need any sermons on the 
subject. Hark ye,— Iam perfectly convinced that the 
habit I am chained to will be the destruction of health, 
of reputation, of my slender means, — will reduce to 
beggary and starvation my wife and children, — and 
yet,” drinking again, “ I know I shall never leave it off.” 


¢ 


DILEMMAS OF AN INFIDEL NEOPHYTE. 197 


“ Good heavens!” said J. “ Why, you seem as plain- 
ly convinced of the infatuation of your conduct as if 
a miracle had been wroughé to convince you of it. 

“Tam,” he said, unthinkingly; “ten thousand mira- 
cles could not make it plainer; so you may ‘spare your 
breath to cool your porridge,’ and preach to one who 
is not already in the condemned cell.” 

I was exceedingly shocked; but I thought within 
myself, — It appears, then, that man may act against 
convictions, as strong as any that a miracle could pro- 
duce. It is clear there are no timits to the perversity 
with which a depraved will and passions can overrule 
evidence, even where it is admitted by the reason to 
be invincible. It does not follow, then, that a miracle 
(which cannot present conclusions more clear) must 
triumph over them. If the passions can defy the un- 
derstanding, where it coolly acknowledges they cannot 
pervert the evidence, how much more easily may they 
cajole it to suggest doubts of the evidence itself! And 
what more easy than in relation to miracles? Such a 
phenomenon might from novelty produce a transient 
impression ; but that would pass away, just as the vivid 
feelings sometimes excited by a sudden escape from 
death pass away; the half-roused debauchee resumes 
his old career, just as if he had never looked over the 
brink of eternity and shuddered with horror as he gazed. 
He who had seen a miracle might very soon, and prob- 
ably would, if he did not like the doctrine it was to 
confirm, persuade himself that it was an illusion of his 
senses, for they have deceived him; unless, indeed, he 
saw a new miracle every day, and then he would be 
certain to get used to it. How much more easily could 
the Jews do this, who both hated the doctrine of Him 
who taught, and, not thinking miracles impossible, 
could conveniently refer them to Beelzebub! 

ch” 


198 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


I felt, therefore, that the brandy and water logic had 
perfectly convinced me that this was far too precarious 
ground on which to conclude that the miracles of the 
New Testament had been wrought. 

I was further confirmed in my convictions of the 
logical nature of all @ priort views on the subject, by 
the whimsical differences of opinion among my infidel 
friends. 

One told me that it was plain that miracles were 
“incredible,” and “impossible,” per se; but he was 
immediately contradicted by a second, who said that he 
really could not see any thing eal or impossible 
about them; that all that was wanting to make them 
credible was sufficient evidence, which perhaps had in 
no case been given. - 

A third said, that it was of little consequence; that 
no miracle could prove a moral truth; and, taking a 
view just the opposite to that of my first acquaintance, 
swore that, if he saw a score of miracles, he should not 
be a bit the more inclined to believe in the authority of 
a religion authenticated by them. 

Here was a fine beginning for an ingennous neo- 
phyte, who was eager to be fully initiated in infidel 
theology! 

It set me to examine the miracles themselves, and 
the evidence for them. 

“They were the simple result of fraud practising 
upon simplicity,” said one of the genuine descendants 
of Bolingbroke and Tindal. 

i pondered over it a good deaJ. At last I said one 
day to another infidel acquaintance, “ You ask me to 
believe that the miraculous events of the New Testa- 
ment were contrivances of fraud; which, though ven- 
tured upon in the very eyes of those who were in- 
terested in detecting them, who must have been preju- 


DILEMMAS OF AN INFIDEL NEOPHYTE. 199 


diced against them, nay, the majority of whom (as the 
events show) were determined, whether they detected 
them or not, not to believe those who wrought them, 
were yet successfully practised, not only on the deluded 
disciples of the impostors, but on their unbelieving 
persecutors, who admitted them to be miracles, only 
of Beelzebub’s performing. I really know not how to 
believe it. As I look at the general history of religion, 
I see that this open-day appeal to miracles — especially 
such as raising the dead — among prejudiced spectators 
interested in unmasking them is, if unsupported by 
truth, just the thing under which a religious enterprise 
inevitably fails.” 

I reminded him that the French prophets in England 
got on pretty well till their unlucky attempt to raise 
the dead, when the bubble burst instantly; that for this 
reason the more astute impostors have refrained from 
any pretensions of the kind, from Mahomet down- 
wards;* that the miracles they professed to have 
wrought were conveniently wrought in secret, on the 
safe theatre of their mental consciousness; or that they 
were reserved for times when their disciples were pre- 
determined to believe them, because they were cordial 
believers already in the religion which appealed to 
them! I said nothing of the unlikelihood of the instru- 
ments — Galilean Jews — whom the theory invests with 
such superhuman powers of deception; or of the pro- 
digious intellect and lofty ambition with which it also 
so liberally endows these obscure vagabonds, who not 
only conceived, in spite of their narrow-hearted Jewish 
bigotry, such a system as Christianity, but proclaimed 
their audacious resolve of establishing it on the ruins 
of every other religion,— Jewish or Heathen. I said 


* How discreetly cautious, again, have the Mormonites been on this 
point! 


200 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


nothing of the still stranger moral attributes with which 
it invests them, (in spite of their being such odious 
tricksters, in spite of all their grovelling notions and 
exclusive prejudices,) as the teachers of a singularly 
elevated and catholic morality ; what is still stranger, 
as suffering for it, — strangest of all, as apparently prac- 
tising it. I said nothing of what is still more wonderful, 
their acting this inconsistent part from motives we can- 
not assign or even imagine; their encountering obloquy, 
persecution, death, in the prosecution of their object, 
whatever it was. I said nothing of the innumerable, 
and one would think inimitable, traits of nature and 
sincerity in the narrative of those who record these 
miracles, and which, if simulated by such liars, would 
be almost a miracle itself; a narrative, in which majes- 
tic indifference to human criticism is everywhere exhib- 
ited ; in which are no apologies for the extraordinary 
stories told, no attempt to conciliate prejudice, no em- 
bellishment, no invectives (as Pascal says) against the 
persecutors of Christ himself;—they are simple wit- 
nesses, and nothing more, and are seemingly indifferent 
whether men despise them or not. I repeat, I said 
nothing of all these paradoxes; I insisted that the mere 
fact of the successful machination of false miracles, of 
such a nature, at so many points, in open day, in defi- 
ance of every motive and prejudice which must have 
prompted the world to unmask the cheat, — of a con- 
spiracy successfully prosecuted, not by one, but by many 
conspirators, whose fortitude, obstinacy, and circum- 
spection, both when acting together and acting alone, 
never allowed them to betray themselves, — was, per se, 
incredible; “and yet,” said I to my friend, “ you ask 
me to believe it?” , 
' “I ask you to believe it?” cried he, in surprise 
which equalled my own. “I am not fool enough to 


DILEMMAS OF AN INFIDEL NEOPHYTE. 201 


ask you to believe any thing of the kind; and they are 
fools who do. The miracles fraudulent machinations! 
no, no; it was, as you say, evidently impossible. And 
where shall we look for marks of simplicity and truth- 
fulness, if not in the records which contain them. The 
fact is,” said he (I should mention that it was just 
about the time that the system of “naturalism” was 
culminating under the auspices of Paulus of Heidel- 
berg, from whom, at second hand, my infidel friend 
borrowed as much as he wanted), — “the fact is, that 
the compilers of the New Testament were pious, sim- 
ple-minded, excellent enthusiasts, who sincerely, but 
not the less falsely, mistook natural phenomena for 
supernatural miracles. What more easy than to sup- 
pose people dead when they were not, and who were 
merely recovered from a swoon or trance? than to 
imagine the blind, deaf, or dumb to be miraculously 
healed, when in fact they were cured by medical skill ? 
than to fancy the blaze of a flambeau to be a star, and 
to shape thunder into articulate speech, and so on? 
Christ was no miracle-worker, but he was a capital 
doctor.” 

I pondered over this “ natural ” explanation fora long 
time. At last I ventured to express to a third infidel 
friend my dissatisfaction with it. “Not only,” said J, 
“jis such a perpetual and felicitous genius for gross 
blundering, such absolute craziness of credulity, in 
strange contrast with the intellectual and moral eleva- 
tion which the New Testament writers everywhere 
evince, and especially in the conception of that Ideal 
of Excellence which even those who reject all that is 
supernatural in Christianity acknowledge to be so 
sublime a masterpiece,—in whose discourses the 
most admirable ethics are illustrated, and in whose 
life they are still more divinely dramatized, — not only 


202 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


is such ludicrous madness of fanaticism at variance 
with the tone of sobriety and simplicity. everywhere 
traceable; but,— what is more,—when I reflect on 
the number and grossness of these supposed illusions, I 
find it hard to imagine how even one individual could 
have been honestly stupid enough to be beguiled by 
them, and utterly impossible to suppose that a number 
of men should on many occasions have been simul- 
taneously thus befooled! But, what is much more, 


how can those who must often have managed the 


phenomena which were thus misinterpreted into mira- 
cles, — how, especially, can the great Physician him- 
self, who knew that he was only playing the doctor, be 
supposed honestly to have allowed the simple-minded 
followers to persist in so strange an error? Hither he, 
or they, or both, must, one would think, have been 
guilty of the grossest frauds. But the mere number 
and simultaneity of such strange illusions, under such 
a variety of circumstances, render it impossible to 
receive this hypothesis. I cannot see, I said, that it is 
so very easy for a number of men to have been con- 
tinually mistaking ‘ flambeaux’ for ‘stars,’ ‘thunder’ for 
‘human speech,’ and ‘ Roman soldiers’ for ‘angels,’ ” 

My friend laughed outright. “I should think it is 
not easy, indeed!” he exclaimed, “ especially that last. 
For my part, J see clearly, on this theory, that either the 
Apostles or their commentators were the most crazy, 
addle-headed wretches in the world. Either Paulus of 
T'arsus or Paulus of Heidelberg was certainly cracked: 
I believe the last. No, my friend ; depend upon it that 
the Gospels consist of a number of fictions, — many of 
them very beautiful, — invented, I am inclined to be- 
lieve, for a very pious purpose, by highly imaginative 
minds.” | 

This set me thinking again. And, in time, my 


DILEMMAS OF AN INFIDEL NEOPHYTE. 203 


doubts, as usual, assumed a determinate shape, and J 
hastened to another oracle of infidelity in hopes of a 
solution. 

If the New Testament be supposed a series of fic- 
tions, I argued, — the work of highly imaginative minds 
for a pious purpose,—there is perhaps a slight moral 
anomaly in the case (but I do not insist upon it): I 
mean that of supposing pious men writing fictions which 
they evidently wish to impose on the world as simple 
history, and which they must have known would, if re- 
ceived at all, be actually regarded as such; as, in fact, 
they have been. Ido not quite understand how pious 
men should thus endeavor to cheat men into virtue, 
nor inculcate sanctity and truth through the medium of 
deliberate fraud and falsehood. But let that pass; per- 
haps one could forgive it. Other anomalies, far more 
inexplicable, strike me. That Galilean Jews (such as 
the history of the time represents them), with all their 
national and inveterate prejudices, — wedded not more 
to the law of Moses than to their own corruptions of 
it, bigoted and exclusive beyond all the nations that 
ever existed, eaten up with the most beggarly super- 
stitions, — should rise to the moral grandeur, the no- 
bility of sentiment, the catholicity of spirit, which char- 
acterize the Gospel, and, above all, to such an ideal as 
Jesus Christ,— this is a moral anomaly, which is to 
me incomprehensible ; the improbability of Christianity 
having its natural origin in such a source is properly 
measured by the hatred of the Jews against it, both 
then and through all time. I said I could as little 
understand the intellectual anomalies of such a theory. 
Could men, among the most ignorant of a nation sunk 
in that gross and puerile superstition of which the New 
Testament itself presents a true picture, and which is 
reflected in the Jewish literature of that age, and ever 


204 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


since,— a nation whose master minds then and ever 
since (think of that!) have given us only such stuff as 
fills the Talmud, — could such men, I said, have created 
such fictions as those of the New Testament, — reached 
such elevated sentiments, or conveyed them in such 
perfectly original forms, — embodied truth so sublime 
in a style so simple? Throughout those writings there 
is a peculiar tone which belongs to no other composi- 
tions of man. While the individuality of the writers is 
not lost, there are still peculiarities which pervade the 
whole, and have, as I think, justly been called a Scrip- 
ture style. One of their most striking characteristics, 
by the way, isa severely simple taste; a uniform free- 
dom from the vulgarities of conception, the exagger- 
ated sentiment, the mawkish nonsense and twaddle, 
which disfigure such an infinitude of volumes of re- 
ligious biography and fiction which have been written 
since. Could such men attain this uniform elevation ? 
Could such men have invented those extraordinary fic- 
tions, — the miracles and the parables? Could they, in 
spite of their gross ignorance, have so interwoven the 
fictitious and the historical as to make the fiction let into 
the history seem a natural part of it? Could they, 
above all, have conceived the daring, but glorious, proj- 
ect of embodying and dramatizing the ideal of the sys- 
tem they inculcated in the person of Christ? And yet 
they have succeeded, though choosing to attempt the 
wonderful task in a life full of unearthly incidents, which 
they have somehow wrought into an exquisite hartge 

But even if one such man in such an age and nation 
could have been found equal to all this, aisle we, I ar- 
gued, believe that several (with undeniable individual. 
mrncink of manner) were capable of working into the 
picture similarly unique, but different materials, with 
similar success, and of reproducing the same portrait, in - 


DILEMMAS OF AN INFIDEL NEOPHYTE. 205 


varying posture and attitude, of the great Moral Idea? 
Could we believe that, in achieving this task, not one, 
but several, were intellectual magicians enough to solve 
that great problem of producing compositions in a form 
independent of language, —of laying on colors which 
do not fade by time; so that while Homer, Shakspeare, 
Milton, suffer grievous wrong the moment their thoughts 
are transferred into another tongue, these men should 
have written so that their wonderful narrative naturally 
adapts itself to every dialect under heaven ? 

These intellectual anomalies, I confessed, —if these 
had been all, — staggered me. As Lord Bacon said that 
he would sooner believe “ all the fables of the Talmud, 
than that this universal frame was without a mind,” so 
I could sooner believe all those fables, than that minds 
that can only produce Talmuds should have conceived 
such fictions as the Gospel. I could as soon believe 
that some dull chronicler of the Middle Ages composed 
Shakspeare’s plays, or a ploughman had written Para- 
dise Lost; only that, to parallel the present case, we 
ought to believe that four ploughmen wrote four Para- 
dise Losts! Nay, I said, I would as soon believe that 
most laughable theory of learned folly, that the monks 
of the Middle Ages compiled all the classics! Nor could 
it help me to say that it was Christians, not Jews, who 
compiled the New Testament; for they must have been 
Jews before they were Christians; and the twofold 
moral and intellectual problem comes back upon our 
hands, — to imagine how the Jewish mind could have 
given birth to the ideas of Christianity, or have embod- 
ied them in such a surpassing form. And as to the in- 
tellectual part of the difficulty, — unhappily abundant 
proof exists in Christian literature that the early Chris- 
tians could as little have manufactured such fictions as 


the Jews themselves! The New Testament is not more 
18 


206 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


different from the writings of Jews, or superior to them, 
than it is different from the writings of the Fathers, 
and superior to them. It stands alone, like the Peak of 
Teneriffe. The Alps amidst the flats of Holland would 
not present a greater contrast than the New Testament 
and the Fathers. And the further we come down, the 
less capable morally, and nearly as incapable intellect- 
ually, do the rapidly degenerating Christians appear, 
of producing such a fiction as the New Testament; so 
that, if it be asked whether it was not possible that 
some Christians of after times might have forged these 
books, one must say with Paley, that they cowld not. 

And by the by, gentlemen, said I, (interrupting my 
narrative, and addressing the present company,) I may 
remind some of you who are great admirers of Pro- 
fessor Newman, that he admits (as indeed all must, who 
have had an opportunity of comparing them) the infi- 
nite inferiority of the Fathers, though he does not at- 
tempt to account, as surely he ought, for so singular a 
circumstance. He says in his Phases: “ On the whole, 
this reading [of the Apostolical Fathers] greatly exalted 
my sense of the unapproachable greatness of the New 
Testament. The moral chasm between it and the very 
earliest Christian writers seemed to me so vast, as only 
to be accounted for by the doctrine..... that the New 
Testament was dictated by the immediate action of the 
Holy Spirit.” * 

But to resume the statement of my early difficulties. 
I felt that the anomalies involved in the theory of the 
Jictitious origin of the New Testament were almost end- 
less; I said that, however hard to believe that any men, 
much less such men as Jews of that age, were capable 
of such achievements as I had already specified, I must 


* Phases, p. 25. 


DILEMMAS OF AN INFIDEL NEOPHYTR. 207 


believe much more still; for the men, with all their 
wisdom, were fools enough to make their enterprise in- 
finitely more hazardous, — by intrusting the execution 
of it to a league of many minds, thus multiplying in- 
definitely their chances of contradiction ; by adopting 
every kind and style of composition, full of reciprocal 
allusions; and, above all, by dovetailing their fabrica- 
tions into true history, thus encountering a perpetual 
danger of collision between the two; all as if to accu- 
mulate upon their task every difficulty which ingenuity 
could devise! Could I believe that such men as those 
to whom history restricts the problem had been able, 
while thus giving every advantage to the detection of 
imposture, to invent a narrative so infinitely varied in 
form and style, composed by so many different hands, 
traversing, in such diversified ways, contemporary char- 
acters and events, involving names of places, dates, and 
numberless specialities of circumstance, and yet main- 
tain a general harmony of so peculiar a kind, such a 
callida junctura of these most heterogeneous materials, 
as to have imposed on the bulk of readers in all ages 
an impression of their artless truth and innocence, and 
that they were writing facts, and not fictions? Above 
all, could they be capable of fabricating those deeply- 
latent coincidences, which, if fraud employed them, 
overreached fraud itself; lying so deep as to be un- 
discovered for nearly eighteen centuries, and only re 
cently attracting the attention of the world in conse 
quence of the objections of infidels themselves? We 
know familiarly enough, that to sustain any verisimili 
tude in a fictitious history (even though only one man 
has the manufacture of it) is almost impossible, because 
the relations of fact that must be anticipated and pro- 
vided against are so infinitely various, that the writer is 
certain to betray himself. The constant detection of 


208 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


very limited fabrications of a similar nature, when evi- 
dence is sifted in a court of justice, shows us the im- 
possibility of weaving a plausible texture of this kind. 
Many things are sure to have been forgotten which 
sught to have been remembered. If this. be the case, 
even where one mind has the fabrication of the whole, 
how much more would it be the case if many minds 
were engaged in the conspiracy? Should we not ex- 
pect, at the very least, the hesitating, suspicious, self- 
betraying tone usual in all such cases? Could we ex- 
pect that general air of truth which so undeniably pre- 
vails throughout the New Testament, — the inimitable 
tone of nature, earnestness, and frank sincerity, which, 
in the case of’such extravagant forgeries, would alone 
be marvellous traits? But, at all events, could we ex- 
pect those minute coincidences, which lay too deep for 
the eye of all ordinary readers, and would never have 
been discovered had not infidelity provoked Paley and 
others to excavate those subterranean galleries in which 
they are found? 

And here again I interrupted my narrative to remark, 
that Professor Newman acknowledges the force of these 
coincidences, and, as usual, gives no account of them. 
He says of the Hore Pauline, in his “ Phases”: “ This 
book greatly enlarged my mind as to the resources of 
historical criticism. Previously my sole idea of criti- 
cism was that of the discreet discernment of style; but I 
now began to understand what powerful argument rose 
out of combinations; and the very complete establish- 
ment which this work gives to the narrative concerning 
Paul in the latter half of the Acts appeared to me to 
reflect critical honor on the whole New Testament.” * 

But once more to resume m y statement. Upon men- 


te ~ 


* 


* Phases, p. 23. 


DILEMMAS OF AN INFIDEL NEOPHYTRE. 209 


tioning these and such like considerations to my infidel 
friend, who pleaded that the New Testament was 
fiction, he replied, “ As to the harmony in these fictions, 
—if they be such,—you must acknowledge that it is 
not absolute: there are discrepancies.” / 

Yes, I said, there are discrepancies, Tadmit; and I 
was about to mention that as another difficulty in the 
way of my reception of this theory: I refer to the 
nature and the limits of those discrepancies. If there 
had been an absolute harmony, even to the minutest 
point, Iam persuaded that, on the principles of evidence 
in all such cases, many would have charged collusion 
on the writers, and have felt that it was a corroboration 
of the theory of the fictitious origin of these composi- 
‘tions. But as the case stands, the discrepancies, if the 
compositions be fictitious indeed, are only a proof that 
these men attained a still more wonderful skill in aping 
verisimilitude than if there had been no discrepancies 
at all. ‘They have left in the historic portions of their 
narrative an air of general harmony, with an exquisite 
congruity in points which lie deep below the surface, — 
a congruity which they must be supposed to have 
known would astonish the world when once discovered ; 
and have at the same time left certain discrepancies on 
the surface (which criticism would be sure to point 
out), as if for the very purpose of affording guaranties 
and vouchers against the suspicion of epilusion! The 
discords iaaca the harmony. Once more, I asked, 
could I believe Jews, Jews in the reign of Tiberius or 
Nero, equal to all these wonders ? 

But all this, even all this, I said, was as nothing com- 
pared with another difficulty involved in this theory. 
How came these fictions, containing such monstrous 
romance, if romance at all, and equally monstrous doc- 


trines, to be believed; to be believed by multitudes of 
18* 


210 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


Jews and Gentiles, both opposed and equally opposed 
to them by previous inveterate superstition and prej- 
udice? How came so many men of such different 
races and nations of mankind to hasten to unclothe 
themselves of all their previous beliefs in order to adopt 
these fantastical fables? How came they to persist in 
regarding them as authoritative truth? How came so 
many in so many different countries to do this at once ? 
Nay, I added with a laugh, I think there are distinct 
traces, as far as we have any evidence, that these very 
peculiar fictions must have been believed by many be- 
Jore they were even compiled and published. 

My infidel friend mused, and at last said, “ I agree 
with you that these compositions could not have been 
fictions in the ordinary sense,— that is, deliberately - 
composed by a conspiracy of highly imaginative minds. 
That last argument alone, of their success, 1s conclusive 
against that; but may they not have been legends which 
gradually assumed this form out of floating traditions 
and previous popular and_ national prepossessions ?” 
In short, he faintly sketched a notion somewhat similar 
to that mythic theory, since so elaborately wrought out 
by Strauss. 

I answered somewhat as follows : — In the first place, 
on this hypothesis, all the intellectual and moral anoma- 
lies of the last theory reappear. That such legends 
should have been the product of the Jewish mind 
(whether designedly or undesignedly, consciously or 
unconsciously, makes no difference), is one of the prin- 
cipal difficulties. If it had been objected to Pére Har- 
douin, that Virgil’s “ Aineid” could not have been com- 
posed by one of the monks of the Middle Ages, I suppose 
that it would have been no relief from the difficulties of 
his hypothesis to say that it was a gradual, uncon- 
sciously formed deposit of the monkish mind! But be- 


DILEMMAS OF AN INFIDEL NEOPHYTE. 211 


sides all this, I said, the theory was loaded with other 
absurdities specially its own; for we must then believe 
all the indications of historic plausibility to which I had 
adverted in speaking of the previous theory to be the 
work of accident; a supposition, if possible, still more 
inconceivable than that some superhuman genius for 
fiction had been employed on their elaboration. Things 
moulder into rubbish, but they do not moulder into fab- 
rics. And then (I continued) the greatest difficulty, 
as before, reappears, — how came these queer legends, 
the product whether of design or accident, to be be- 
lieved? Jews and Gentiles were and must have been 
thoroughly opposed to them. 

To this he replied, “ I suppose the belief, as you also 
do, anterior to the books, which express that belief, 
but did not cause it. I suppose the Christian system 
already existing as a floating vapor and merely con- 
densed into the written form. It was a gradual for- 
mation, like the Greek and Indian mythologies.” I 
theupht on this for some time, and then said something 
like this : — 

Worse and worse ; for I fear that the age of Augus- 
tus was no age in which the world was likely to frame 
a mythology at all: —if it had been such an age, the 
_ problem does not allow sufficient time for it;— if there 
had been sufficient time, it would not have been such a 
mythology ;— and if there had been any formed, it 
would not have been rapidly embraced, any more than 
other mythologies, by men of different races, but would 
have been confined to that which gave it birth. 

As to the first point, you ask me to believe that some- 
thing like the mythology of the Hindoos or Egyptians 
could spring up and diffuse itself in such an age of civ- 
ilization and philosophy, books and history ; whereas 
all experience shows us that only a time of barbarism, 


212 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


before authentic history aas commenced, is proper to 
the birth of such monstrosities ; that this congelation of 
tradition and legend takes place only during the long 
frosts and the deep night of ages, and is impossible in 
the bright sun of history ;—— in whose very beams, nev- 
ertheless, these prodigious icicles are supposed to have 
been formed! 

As to the second point, you ask me to believe that 
the thing should be done almost instantly ; for in A. D. 
- 1, we find, by all remains of antiquity, that both Jews 
and Gentiles were reposing in the shadow of their an- 
cient superstitions ; and in A. D. 60, multitudes among 
different races had become the bigoted adherents of this 
novel mythology ! 

As to the third point, you ask me to believe that 
such a mythology as Christianity could have sprung up 
when those amongst whom it is supposed to, have orig- 
inated, and those amongst whom it is supposed to 
have been propagated, must have equally loathed it. 
National prepossessions of the Jews! Why, the kind of 
Messiah on which the national heart was: set, the invet- 
eracy with which they persecuted to the death the one 
that offered himself, and the hatred with which for 
eighteen hundred years they have recoiled from him, 
sufficiently show how preposterous this notion is! As 
a nation, they were, ever have been, and are now, more 
opposed to Christianity than any other nation on earth. 
Prepossessions of the Gentiles!| There was not a Mes- 
siah that a Jew could frame a notion of, but would have 
been an object of intense loathing and detestation to 
them all! Yet you ask me to believe that a mythology 
originated in the prejudices of a nation the vast bulk of 
whom from its commencement have most resolutely re- 
jected it, and was rapidly propagated among other na- 
tions and races, who must have been prejudiced against 


DILEMMAS OF AN INFIDEL NEOPHYTE. 2138 


it; who even abjured in its favor those venerable super 
stitions which were consecrated by the most powerful 
associations of antiquity ! 

As to the fourth point, you ask me to believe that, at 
a juncture when all the world was divided between 
deep-rooted superstition and incredulous scepticism, — 
divided, as regards the Jews, into Pharisees and Saddu- 
cees, and, as regards the Gentiles, into their Pharisees 
and Sadducees, that is, into the vulgar who believed, 
or at least practised, all popular religions, and the phi- 
losophers who laughed at them all, and whose com- 
bined hostility was directed against the supposed new 
mythology, —it nevertheless found favor with multi- 
tudes in almost all lands! You ask me to believe that 
a mythology was rapidly received by thousands of differ- 
ent races and nations, when all history proclaims, that 
it is with the utmost difficulty that any such system 
ever passes the limits of the race which has originated 
it; and that you can hardly get another race even to 
look at it as a matter of philosophic curiosity! You 
ask me to believe that this system was received by 
multitudes among many different races, both of Asia 
and Europe, without force, when a similar phenomenon 
has never been witnessed in relation to any mythology 
whatever! ‘hus, after asking me to burden myself 
with a thousand perplexities to account for the origin 
of these fables, you afterwards burden me with a thou- 
sand more, to account for their success ! Lastly, you 
ask me to believe, not only that men of different races 
and countries became bigotedly attached to legends 
which none were likely to originate, which all were 
likely to hate, and, most of all, those who are supposed 
to have originated them; but that they received them 
as historic facts, when the known recency of their origin 
must have shown the world that they were the legenda- 


214 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


ry birth of yesterday; and that they acted thus, though 
those who propagated these legends had no military 
power no civil authority, no philosophy, no science, no 
one instrument of human success to aid them, while 
the opposing prejudices which everywhere encountered 
them had! I really know not how to believe all this. 

“There are certainly many difficulties in the matter,” 
candidly replied my infidel friend. But, as if wishing 
to effect a diversion, —“ Have you ever read Gibbon’s 
celebrated chapter ?” 

Why, yes, I told him, two or three years before; 
but he does not say a syllable in solution of my chief 
difficulties; he does not tell me any thing as to the 
origin of the ideas of Christianity, nor who could have 
written the wonderful books in which they are em- 
bodied; besides, said I, in my simplicity, he yields‘ 
the point, by allowing miracles to be the most potent 
cause of the success of Christianity. 

“ Ah,” he replied, “ but every one can see that he is 
there speaking ironically.” 

Why, then, said I, laughing, I fear he is telling us 
how the success of Christianity cannot be accounted 
for, rather than how it can. 

“O, but he gives you the secondary causes; which 
it is easy to see, he considers the principal; and also 
sufficient.” 

I will read him again, I said, and with deep atten- 
tion. Some time after, in meeting with the same 
friend, I began upon Gibbon’s secondary causes. 

“ They have given you satisfaction, I hope.” 

Any thing but that, I replied; they do not, as I said 
before, touch my principal difficulties; and even as to 
the success of the system when once elaborated, — his 
reasons are either a mere restatement of the difficulty 
to be solved, or aggravate it indefinitely. 


DILEMMAS OF AN INFIDEL NEOPHYTR. 215 


“ You are hard to be pleased,” he replied. 

Isaid I was, except by solid arguments. But does 
Gibbon offer them? I asked. 

He tells us, for example, that the virtues, energy, and 
zeal of the early Church was a main instrument of the 
success of Christianity; whereas it is the very origina- 
tion of the early Church, with all these efficacious en- 
dowments, that we want to account for: it is as though 
he had told me that we might account for the success 
of Christianity from the fact that it had succeeded to 
such an extent as to render its further success very 
probable! As for the rest of his secondary causes, they 
are difficulties in its way rather than auxiliaries. He 
asks me to believe that the intolerance of Christianity - 
— by which it refused all alliance with other religions, 
and insisted in reigning alone or not at all, by which it 
spat contempt on the whole rabble of the Pantheon — 
was likely to facilitate its reception among nations, 
whose pride and whose pleasure alike it was to encour- 
age civilities and compliments between their Gods, 
each of whom was on gracious visiting terms with its 
neighbors! He asks me, in effect, to believe that the 
austerity of the Christians tended to give them favor 
in the eyes of an accommodating and jovial Heathen- 
ism; that the severity of manners by which they re- 
proved it, and which to their contemporaries must have 
appeared (as we know from the Apologists it did) much 
as Puritan grimace to the court of Charles IL, was 
somehow attractive! That the scruples with which 
they recoiled from all usages and customs which could 
be associated with the elegant pomp of Pagan wor- 
ship, and the suspicion with which, as having been 
linked with idolatry, they looked on every emanation 
of that spirit of beauty which reigned over the exterior 
life of Paganism, would operate as a charm in their 


216 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


favor! That their studied absence from all scenes of 
social hilarity, the:r grave looks on festal days, their un- 
garlanded heads, their simple attire, their utter estrange- 
ment from the Graces, which in truth were the only 
legitimate Gods in Greece, and the true mothers of the 
whole family of Olympus, would be likely to concili- 
ate towards the Gospel the favorable dispositions of 
classic antiquity! I have not so read history, nor so 
learnt human nature. Again, he asks me to believe, 
that the immortality which Christianity promised the 
Heathen — such an immortality — was another of the 
‘things which tended to give it success;—on the one 
hand, a menace of retribution, not for flagrant crimes 
only, which Heathenism itself punished, nor for those 
lax mannets which the easy spirit of Paganism had 
made venial, but for. spiritual vices, of which it took no 
account, some of which it had even consecrated as 
virtues ; and, on the other hand, an offer of a paradise 
which promised nothing but delights of a spiritual or- 
der; a paradise which, whatever material or imaginative 
adjuncts it might have, certainly disclosed none; which 
presented no one thing to gratify the prurient curiosity 
of man’s fancy, or the eager passions of his sensual na- 
ture; which must, in fact, have been about as inviting 
to the soul of a Heathen as the promise of an eternal 
Lent to an epicure! Surely these were resistless se. 
ductions. Yet itis to such things as auxiliaries that 
Gibbon refers me for the success of Christianity. Veri- 
ly it is not without reason that he is called a master of 
irony! | 
My friend fairly acknowledged the difficulties of the 
subject, but said he could not believe in the truth of 
Christianity. 

I repaired to another infidel acquaintance “It is a 
perplexing, a very perplexing controversy, no doubt,” 


DILEMMAS OF AN INFIDEL NEOPHYTE. 21:7 


was his reply; “but every thing tends to show that 
Christianity resembles in its principal features all those 
other religions which you admit to be false. All have 
their prodigies and miracles, — their revelations and in- 
spirations, — their fragments of truth and their masses 
of nonsense. They are all to be rejected together.” 

I again puzzled for a long time over this aspect of 
the case. Atlast I said to him, — ‘I'his seems a curious 
way of disposing of the evidence for Christianity ; for if 
there be any true religion, it is likely, as in all other 
cases, that the counterfeits will have some features in 
common with it. It would follow, also, that there can 
be no true philosophy ; since, while there are scores of 
philosophies, only one can be true. But I have another 
difficulty : on comparing Christianity with other sys- 
tems, I find vital differences, both as regards theory and 
fact. As regards theory, I find an insuperable difficulty, 
not merely in imagining how Jews, Greeks, or Romans, 
any or all of them, should have been the originators of 
Christianity, but how Auman nature should have been 
fool enough to originate it at all! For I am asked to 
believe that man, such as I know him through all his- 
tory, such as he appears in so many forms of religion 
which have been his undoubted and most worthy fab- 
rication, did, whether fraudulently or not, whether de- 
signedly or unconsciously, frame a religion which is in 
striking contrast with all his ordinary handiwork of this 
sort! This religion enjoins the austerest morality ; 
human religions generally enjoin a very lax one; — this 
demands the most refined purity, even of the thoughts 
and desires; other religions usually attach to external 
and ceremonial observances greater weight than to 
morality itself ;—this is singularly simple in its rites ; 
they for the most part consist of little else;— this ex- 


hibits a singular silence and abstinence in relation to 
es 


218 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


the future and invisible ; they amply indulge the im 
agination and fancy, and are full of delineations calcu- 
lated to gratify man’s most natural curiosity ; — this 
takes under its special patronage those virtues which 
man is least likely to love or cultivate, and which men 
in general regard as pusillanimous infirmities, if not 
vices ; they patronize the most energetic passions, — 
the passions which made the demigods and heroes of 
antiquity. Jam not saying which is the better in these 
respects; Iam only saying that human nature appears 
more true to itself in the last. And so notorious is all 
this, that the corruptions of Christianity, as years rolled 
on, have ever been to assimilate it to the other relig- 
ions of the earth; to abate its spirituality; to relax its 
austere code of morals; to commute its proper claims 
for external observances; to encumber its ritual with 
an infinity of ceremonies; and, above all, to uncover 
the future and invisible, on which it left a veil, and add 
a purgatory into the bargain! Thus, whether con- 
trasted with other religions or with its corrupted self, 
Christianity does not seem a religion which human 
nature would be pleased to invent. 

Again, is it like the other religious products of human 
nature, in daring to aspire to universal dominion, and 
that too founded on moral power alone? Never, till 
Christianity appeared, had such an imagination ever 
entered the mind of man! Other religions were na- 
tional affairs; their gods never dreamed of such an 
enterprise as that of subduing all nations. They were 
naturally contented with the country that gave them 
birth, and the homage of the race that worshipped 
them. ‘They were, when not themselves assailed, very 
tolerant, and did the civil thing by all other gods of all 
other nations, and were even content to expire with 
great propriety (they usually did so) with the political 


DILEMMAS OF AN INFIDEL NEOPHYTE. 219 


extinction of the race of their votaries! Christianity 
alone adopts a different tone, — “ Go ye, and preach the 
Gospel to all nations,’ — and declares, not only that it 
will reign, but that none other shall. It will not endure 
a rival; it will not consent to have a statue with the 
mob of the Pantheon. Whether this ambition — call it 
pride and folly, if you will, as you well may if the thing 
be merely human — was likely to suggest itself to man, 
considering the local and national character of other 
religions, and the apparent hopelessness of any such 
enterprise, I have my doubts. Arrogance it may be; 
but it is not such arrogance as is very natural to man. 

These, I said, were amongst a few of the things in 
which I must say I thought the theory of Christianity . 
very unlike that of any religion human nature was 
likely to invent. 

If, I continued, I examine the past history and _pres- 
ent position of Christianity, with an impartial eye, I 
see that it presents in several most important respects 
a contrast with other religions in point of fact. I shall 
content myself with enumerating a few. Look, then, 
at the perpetual spirit of aggression which character- 
izes this religion; its undeniable power (in whatever it 
consists, and from whatever it springs) to prompt those 
who hold it to render it victorious, — a spirit which has 
more or less characterized its whole history; which 
still: lives, even in its most corrupt forms, and which 
has not been least active in our own time. Ido not 
see any thing like it in other religions. ‘Till I see Mol- 
lahs from Ispahan, Brahmins from Benares, Bonzes 
from China, preaching their systems of religion in Lon- 
don, Paris, and Berlin, supported year after year by 
an enormous expenditure on the part of their zealous 
compatriots, and the nations who support them taking 
the liveliest interest in their success or failure; till I 


220 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


see this (call it fanatical if you will, the money thus 
expended wasted, the men who give it fools), I shall 
not be able to pronounce Christianity simply on a par 
with other religions. 

Till the sacred books of other religions can boast of 
at least a hundredth part of the same efforts to trans- 
late and diffuse them as have been concentrated on the 
Bible; till we find them in at least half as many lan- 
guages; till they can render those who possess them 
at least a tenth part as willing to make costly efforts to 
insure to them a circulation coextensive with the family 
of man; till they oceupy an equal space in the Hitera- 
ture of the world, and are equally bound up with the 
philosophy, history, poetry, of the community of eivil- 
ized nations; till they have given an equal number of 
human communities a written language, and may thus 
boast of having imparted to large sections of the human 
family the germ of all art, science, and civilization; till 
they can cite an equal amount of testimonies to their 
beauty and sublimity from those who reject their divine 
original, — I shall scarcely think Christianity can be put 
simply on a par with other religions. 

Till it can be said that the sacred books of other 
religions are equally unique in relation to all the litera- 
ture in which they are imbedded; similar neither to 
what precedes nor what comes after them, — their ene- 
mies themselves being judges; till they can be shown 
to be as superior to all that is found in contempora- 
neous authors as the New Testament is to the writings 
of Christian Fathers or the Jewish Rabbis, — I cannot 
say that Christianity is just like any other religion. 

Till we can find a religion that has stood as many 
differené assaults from infidelity in the midst of it,— 
educated infidelity, infidelity aided by learning, genius, 
philosophy, freely employing all the power of argument 


DILEMMAS OF AN INFIDEL NEOPHYTE. 20% 


and all the power of ridicule to disabuse its votaries ; 
till we can find a religion which can point to an equal 
array of educated men, philosophic in spirit, in learn- 
ing, and genius, deeply skilled in the investigation of 
evidence, deliberately declaring that its claims are well 
sustained, — we cannot say that Christianity is just 
like any other religion. 

Till it can be shown that another religion, to an equal 
extent, has propagated itself without force amongst to- 
tally different races, and in the most distant countries, 
and has survived equal revolutions of thought and opin- 
ion, manners and laws, amongst those who have em- 
braced it, it cannot be said that Christianity is simply 
like any other religion. 

Till it can be shown that the sacred books of other 
religions have contained predictions as definite and as 
unlikely to be fulfilled as the success of early Chris- 
tianity against all the opposition of prejudice and perse- 
cution, — its voluntary reception amongst different races, 
contrary to all the analogies of religious history, — and 
the continued preservation of the Jews among all na- 
tions without forming a part of any,—I cannot think 
that Christianity is precisely in the condition of any 
other religion. 

Such, gentlemen, were some few of the differences 
in fact which seemed to me, not less than its theory, to 
discriminate Christianity from other religions. Had I, 
in those days of my youth, been favored with the views 
of modern “ spiritualism,’ I should have added, that till 
it is shown that some other religion has possessed an 
equal power of moulding those characters whom Mr. 
Newman points out as the best examples of “ spiritual ” 
religion, and can point to oracles equally pervaded by 
that “sentiment” which he declares is wanting in 


Greek philosophers, English Deists, and German Pan- 
19 * 


222 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


theists, but which, he admits, pervades the Bible ; till 
I see the devout men whom he extols produced by 
other religions, or rather, I ought to say, produced 
without them (where Christianity however is unknown) 
by the unaided “ spiritual faculty,” — I cannot but think 
that the position of Christianity is somewhat discrimi- 
nated both from other religions and from “ Naturalism.” 

Such, I said, to conclude, was an imperfect outline 
of some of my early conflicts, and such the-eruel mode 
in which my unbelieving friends laughed at each other’s 
hypotheses, and left me destitute of any. Finding that 
they conclusively confuted one another, and perceiving 
at last that the idea of the superhuman origin of Chris- 
tianity did, and, as Bishop Butler says, alone can, re- 
solve all the difficulties of the subject, I was compelled 
to forego all the advantages of infidelity, and conde- 
scended to “depress” my conscience to the “ Biblical 
standard”! Would to Heaven that it had never been 
depressed below it! 

I am bound to say my auditors listened with courtesy. 

The conversation was now carried on in little knots: 
I, who was glad of a rest, was occupied in listening to 
a conversation between Harrington and his Italian 
friend, who was urging him to take refuge from such 
a Babel of discords as his company had uttered, in the 
only secure asylum. Harrington told him, with the 
utmost gravity, that one great objection to the Church 
of Rome was the unseemly liberty she allowed to the 
right of private judgment; that he found in her com- 
munion distractions the most perplexing, especially as 
between English and foreign Romanists ! 


After the party had broken up, and we were left 
alone, Mr. Fellowes, turning to me, said, “ You lay 


SKIRMISHES. 223 


great siress on the origination of such a character as 
Christ. But can we make its reality a literary problem ? 
May it not have been imaginary? As Mr. Newman 
says, ‘ Human nature is often portrayed in super- 
human dignity ; why not in superhuman goodness ?’” 

“That the origination,” said I, “of such a Moral 
Ideal, in so peculiar a form, by swch men as Galilean 
Jews, is unaccountable enough, I fancy all will admit; 
but it is, you observe, only one of the numberless points 
which are unaccountable; neither do I make this one 
feature, or any of the other singular characteristics of 
the New Testament, merely a literary problem. The 
whole, you see, is a vast literary, moral, intellectual, 
spiritual, and historical problem. But it is too much 
the way with you objectors to say, ‘ This may, perhaps, 
be got over,’ and‘ That may be got over’; the question 
is, as Bishop Butler says, whether all can be got over ; 
for if all the arguments for it be not false, Christianity 
is true. 

“ You charge us with the very conduct,’ retorted 
Fellowes, “which Mr. Newman objects to Christians. 
They, says he, affirm that this objection is of little 
weight, and that is of little weight; whereas allogether 
they amount to considerable weight.” 

“ T admit it,” said I; “and those are very unfair who 
deny it. But still, since there are these things of weight 
on both sides, the argument returns, on which side does 
the balance on tle sum-total of evidence lie?” 

“ But,’ said Fellowes, “how few are competent: to 
compute that!” 

“ You are really pleasant, Mr. Fellowes,” I replied ; 
“ T thought the question we were arguing was as to the 
truth or the falsehood of Christianity, not whether the 
bulk of mankind are fully competent to form an inde- 
pendent and profound judgment on its evidences: very 


224 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


few are competent to do so either on this or any other 
complex subject ; certainly not (as our differences show) 
on the subject of your ‘spiritualism. But the incom- 
petency of the great bulk of mankind to deal with com- 
plicated evidence makes a thing neither true nor false; 
perhaps on this, as on so many other subjects, the few 
must thoroughly sift the matter for the many. If your 
present objection were of force, what would become of 
truth in politics, law, medicine, in all which the great 
majority must trust much to the conclusions of their 
wiser fellow-creatures? Your observation is no confu- 
tation of the evidences for Christianity: it is simply a 
satire upon God and the condition of the human crea- 
tures he has made!” 

“ Well, let that pass,” said Fellowes; “I was going 
to say further, that it is not so clear to every one that 
Christ is so very wonderful an ideal of humanity. Do 
you remember that Mr. Newman says in his ‘ Phases,’ 
that, when he was a boy, he read Benson’s Life of 
Fletcher of Madely, and thought Fletcher a more per- 
fect man than Jesus Christ? and he also says that he 
imagines, if he were to read the book again, he would 
think the same. - Have you nothing to say to that?” 

“ Noruine,” said I, “except to point you to the 
infinitely different estimates of Christ formed by other 
men who yet think of historical Christianity much as 
you do. How differently do such writers as Mr. Greg 
and Mr. Parker speak! How do they almost exhaust 
the resources of language to express their sentiments of 
this wonderful character! As to Mr. Newman’s im- 
pression, I do not think it worth an answer. Whena 
man so far forgets himself as to say what he can hardly 
help knowing will be unspeakably painful to multi- 
tudes of his fellow-creatures, on the strength of boyish - 
impressions, — not even thinking it worth while to verify 


SKIRMISHES. 225 


those impressions, and see whether, after thirty or forty 
years, he is nct something more than a boy, — I think 
it is scarcely ‘worth while to reply. Christianity is will- 
ing to consider the arguments of men, but not the 
impressions of boys.” 

“But we must not be too hard,’ said Harrington, 
“upon Mr. Newman; it is evident, from his Hebrew 
Monarchy, that, as he takes a benevolent pleasure in 
defending those whom nobody else will defend, —in 
petting Ahab, whom he pronounces rather weak than 
wicked, and palliating Jezebel, whose character was, 
it seems, grievously deteriorated by contact with the 
‘prophets of Jehovah’ —so he has a chivalrous habit 
of depressing those who have been particularly the ob- 
jects of veneration. Elisha, Samuel, and David are all 
brought down a great many degrees in the moral scale. 
He has simply done the same with Christ.” 

“ Well,” said Fellowes, “I cannot help agreeing 
with Mr. Newman in thinking that, when one hears 
men made the objects of extravagant eulogy, it almost 
‘tempts one, even though a stranger to their very name, 
to “pick holes,” as the saying is.’” 

“Tt may be so,” said I; “but itis a tendency against 
which we should guard. It would lead us, like him of 
Athens, to ostracize Aristides: we should be weary of 
hearing him continually called ‘ The Just.” 

“ However,” rejoined Fellowes, “ I am weary of hear- 
ing Christ so perpetually called our example. As Mr. 
Newman says, he cannot, except in a very modified 
sense, be such. ‘His garments will not fit us.” 

“Did you ever hear,” said I, “that fathers and 
mothers ought to set an example to their children?” 

“ Certainly.” | 

« Yet surely not in all things can they be such. 
Their garments surely will not fit their children.” 


226 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“No,” said Harrington; “those of the father at all 
events will not, if they are girls, nor of the mother, if 
they are boys. Fellowes, I think you had better say 
nothing on this subject. If men of fifty can, in all es- 
sential points, be beautiful examples to girls of ten, — 
in gentleness, in patience, in humility, in kindness, and 
so forth, —and all the more impressively for the wide 
interval between them, why, I suppose Jesus Christ 
may be as much to his disciples.” 

“ But, again,” urged Fellowes to me, « you, like so 
many men, seem to lay such stress on the superiority 
of the morality of the New Testament. I cannot see 
it. I confess, with Mr. Foxton and many more, that 
it seems to me that it has not such a very great advan: 
tage over that of many heathen moralists who have 
said the same things, — Plato, for example.” 

I replied, that, of course, it would be of no avail to 
affirm in general (what I was yet convinced was true), 
that the New Testament inculcated a system of ethics 
much more just and comprehensive than any other 
volume in the world. I told him, however, that I 
thought he would not deny that its manner of conveying 
ethical truth was unique; that it not only contained 
more admirable and varied summaries of duty than any 
other book whatever, but that we should seek in vain 
in any other for such a profusion of just maxims and 
weighty sentiments, expressed with such comprehensive 
brevity, or illustrated with so much beauty and pathos. 
I remarked that, if he would be pleased to do as I had 
once done,— compile a selection ‘of the principal pre- 
cepts and maxims from the most admirable ethical’ 
works of antiquity (those of Aristotle, for example), - 
and compare them with two or three of the summaries 
of similar precepts in the New Testament, —he would 
at once feel how much more vivid, touching, animated, 


CHRISTIAN ETHICS. ya. 


and even comprehensive, was the Scriptural expression 
of the same truths. But I further observed, that, even 
to obtain the means of such comparison, he must reject 
from Plato or the Stagyrite twenty times the bulk of 
questionable speculations, and dreary subtilties, which 
separate by long intervals those gems of moral truth, 
which everywhere sparkle on the pages of the Nee 
Testament. 

I told him I could not help laying great stress on 
the degree and manner in which this element enters 
into the composition of the New Testament; that ethi- 
cal truths are there expressed in every variety of form 
which can fix them upon the imagination and the heart, 
with an entire absence of those prolix discussions and 
metaphysical refinements which form so large a portion 
of Aristotle and Plato. If we find in these writers a 
moral truth expressed with something approaching the 
comprehensive beauty and simplicity of the Gospels, 
we are filled with surprise aad rapture, and dig out 
with joy the glittering fragment from the mass of earthy 
matter, — oppressive disquisitions about “ideas” and 
“ essences,” “energies” and “ entelechies,” and so forth, 
in which it is sure to be imbedded. I promised, if 
health and life were given, to exhibit some day these 
gems, with a sufficient portion of the surrounding earth 
still attached to them, and to contrast them with those 
of the New Testament. “In this strange volume,” I 
continued, “the most beautiful ethical maxims exist 
in unexampled profusion. After reading Aristotle’s 
ethics, I feel, when I turn to the New Testament, 
as Linneus is said to have felt when he first saw | 
growing wild the masses of blooming gorse, which he 
had never seen in his cold North, except as a sheltered 
exotic. Whether it was likely that contemporaries of 
the Pharisees, who were sunk in formalism, and who 


228 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


had glossed away every moral and spiritual precept of 
the Law, could reach and maintain such elevation of 
tone, I leave you to judge.” But though I felt all 
this, I acknowledged that it was difficult to express 
it; and said that perhaps the best way to compare the 
morality of the New Testament with the ethical system 
of any philosopher, or the code of any legislator, would 
be to imagine them all universally adopted, and then 
see how much would have to be objected to, — how 
much “ brick” was mingled with the “porphyry.” “If, 
for example,’ said I, “ Plato, who, I admit, so often 
flashes upon us the sublimest and most comprehensive 
principles of morals, and whose ethical system you say 
is identical with that of Christianity, had the forming of 
a republic, you would have community of women and 
property, — women trained to war, — infanticide under 
certain circumstances,— young children led to battle 
(though at a safe distance), that ‘the young whelps 
might early scent carnage, and be inured to slaughter’! 
Both with him and Aristotle slavery would be a regu- 
larly sanctioned and perfectly natural institution. Not 
only did they entertain very lax notions of the relations 
of the sexes, but the tone in which they speak of the 
most abominable corruptions —I do not except canni- 
balism —to which humanity has ever degraded itself, 
implied that they regarded such things as comparative- 
ly venial. I know no greater single names than these, 
and I presume that these points you would find some 
difficulty in digesting.” He admitted it. 

I told him I supposed he would take equal objec- 
tions to the Gentoo, or the Roman, or the Spartan 
- code, as also to the Koran. He admitted all this too. 

“But now, if we take the Christian code, and sup- 
pose the New Testament made the literal guide of life 
in every man, tell me, Mr. Fellowes, what would be 


CHRISTIAN ETHICS. 229 


the consequence? What would you wish other- 
wise ?” 

“ Why,” said Harrington, smiling, “he would, per- 
haps, object that there would be no more war, and that 
retaliation would be impossible.” 

“ The former,” said I, “ we could all endure, I sup- 
pose; nor be unwilling to give up the latter, seeing that 
there would, in that case, be no wrongs to avenge. It 
would not matter that you would be compelled to turn 
your right cheek to him who smote you on the left (let 
the interpretation be as literal as you will), since no 
one would strike you on the left; nor that you must 
surrender your cloak to him who took away your coat, 
since no one would take your coat. But tell me, is 
there any thing more serious that would follow from the 
literal and universal adoption of the ethics of the New 
Testament?” Fellowes acknowledged that he knew 
of nothing, unless it was a sanction of slavery. 

“Ido not admit that the New Testament sanctions 
it,’ I replied; “and I will, if you like, give my reasons 
in full, another time. But is there any thing else?” 
He said he did not recollect any thing. 

“ But you would recoil from the literal realization of 
the systems and codes we have mentioned.” He con- 
fessed this also. 

“ The superiority of the Christian code, then,” said I, 
“is practically acknowledged. And it is further often 
confessed, in a most significant way, by the mode in 
which the enemies of Christianity taunt its disciples. 
When they speak of the vices and corruptions of the 
heathen, they blame, and justly blame, the principles of 
their vicious systems; and ask how it could be other- 
wise? When they blame the Christian, the first and 
the last thing they usually do, is to point in triumph 


to the contrast between his principles and practice. 
: 20 


230 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


‘How much better, say they, ‘is his code than his 
conduct!’ Itis asa hypocrite that they censure him. 
Tt is sad for him that it should be so; but it is a glo- 
rious compliment to the morality of the New Testa- 
ment. Its enemies know not how to attack its disci- 
ples, except by endeavoring to show that they do not 
act as iz bids them. Surely,’ said J, in conclusion, 
“this uniform excellence of the Christian ethics, as 
compared with other systems, is a peculiarity worth 
noting, and utterly incomprehensible upon the hypothe- 
sis that it was the unaided work of man. That there 
are points on which the moral systems of men and 
nations osculate, is most true; that there should have 
been certain approximations on many most important 
subjects was to be expected from the essential identity 
of human nature, in all ages and countries; but their 
deviations in some point or other — usually in several 
— from what we acknowledge to be both right and ex- 
pedient, is equally undeniable. That, when such men 
as Plato and Aristotle tried their hands upon the prob- 
lem, they should err, while the writers of the New Tes- 
tament should have succeeded, — that these last should 
do what all mankind besides had in some points or 
other failed to do, — is sufficiently wonderful; that Gal- 
itlean Jews should have solved the problem is, whether 
we consider their age, their ignorance, or their prepos- 
sessions, to me utterly incredible.” 

It was now very late; and we rose to retire. Mr. 
Fellowes said, “ I should be glad to know what answer 
you would make to Mr. Newman’s observations on three 
points, — one of them just alluded to,— on which he 
affirms that undue credit has been given to Christianity ; 
I mean its supposed elevating influence in relation to 
women, its supposed mitigation of slavery, and its sup- 
posed triumphs before Constantine.” 


THE BLANK BIBLE. 231 


I said I would scribble a few remarks on the subject, 
and would give them to him in a day or two. I re- 
marked that Mr. Newman had treated these great sub- 
jects very briefly, but that I could not be quite so con- 
cise as he had been. 


The discussions of the preceding day had made so 
deep an impression upon me, that when I went to bed 
I found it very difficult to sleep; and when I did get 
off at last, my thoughts shaped themselves into a sin- 
gular dream, which, though only a dream, is not, I 
think, without instruction. I shall entitle it 


Ture Buanx BIBue. 


“ErAny yeyoveiv vuxtipor’ dveipara. 
JEschyl. Prom. Vinct. 657. 

I thought I was at home, and that on taking up my 
Greek Testament one morning to read (as is my wont) 
a chapter, I found, to my surprise, that what seemed to 
be the old, familiar book was a total blank; not a char- 
acter was inscribed in it or upon it. I supposed that 
some book like it had, by some accident, got into its 
place; and, without stopping to hunt for it, took down 
a large quarto volume which contained both the Old 
and New Testaments. ‘To my surprise, however, this 
also was a blank from beginning to end. With that 
facility of accommodation to any absurdities which is 
proper to dreams, I did not think very much of the 
coincidence of two blank volumes having been substi- 
tuted for two copies of the Scriptures in two different 
places, and therefore quietly reached down.a copy of 
the Hebrew Bible, in which I could just manage to 
make out a chapter. To my increased surprise, and 
even something like terror, I found that this also was a 


232 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


perfect blanx. ‘While Iwas musing on this unaccount- 
able phenomenon, my servant entered the room, and said 
that thieves had been in the house during the night, for 
that her large Bible, which she had left on the kitchen 
table, had been removed, and another volume left by 
mistake in its place, of just the same size, but made of 
nothing but white paper. She added, with a laugh, 
that it must have been a very queer kind of thief to 
steal a Bible at all; and that he should have left anoth- 
er book instead, made it the more odd. I asked her if 
any thing else had been missed, and if there were any 
signs of people having entered the house. She answered 
in the negative to both these questions ; and I began to 
be strangely perplexed. 

On going out into the street, I met a friend, who, 
almost before we had exchanged greetings, told me that 
a most unaccountable robbery had been committed at 
his house during the night, for that every copy of the 
Bible had been removed, and a volume of exactly the 
same size, but of pure white paper, left in its stead. 
Upon telling him that the same accident had happened 
to myself, we began to think that there was more in it 
than we had at first surmised. 

On proceeding further, we found every one complain- 
ing, in similar perplexity, of the same loss; and before 
night it became evident that a great and terrible “ mir- 
acle” had been wrought in the world; that in one 
night, silently, but effectually, that hand which had 
written its terrible menace on the walls of Belshazzar’s 
palace had reversed the miracle; had sponged out of 
our Bibles every syllable they contained, and thus re- 
claimed the most precious gift which Heaven had be- 
stowed, and ungrateful man had abused. 

I was curious to watch the effects of this calamity 
on the varied characters of mankind. There was uni- 


THE BLANK BIBLE. 233 


versally, however, an interest in the Bible now it was 
lost, such as had never attached to it while it was pos- 
sessed; and he who had been but happy enough to 
possess fifty copies might have made his fortune. One 
keen speculator, as soon as the first whispers of the 
miracle began to spread, hastened to the depositories of 
the Bible Society and the great book-stocks in Pater- 
noster Row, and offered to buy up at a high premium 
any copies of the Bible that might be on hand; but 
the worthy merchant was informed that there was 
not a single copy remaining. Some, to whon: their 
Bible had been a “blank” book for twenty years, and 
who would never have known whether it was full or 
empty had not the lamentations of their neighbors 
impelled them to look into it, were not the least loud 
in their expressions of sorrow at this calamity. One 
old gentleman, who had never troubled the book in his 
.ife, said it was “ confounded hard to be deprived of his 
religion in his old age”; and another, who seemed to 
have lived as though he had always been of Mande- 
ville’s opinion, that “ private vices were public benefits,” 
was all at once alarmed for the morals of mankind. He 
feared, he said, that the loss of the Bible would have “a 
cursed bad effect on the public virtue of the country.” 
As the fact was universal and palpable, it was impos- 
sible that, like other miracles, it should leave the usual 
loopholes for scepticism. Miracles in general, in order 
to be miracles at all, have been singular or very rare 
violations of a general law, witnessed by a few, on 
whose testimony they are received, and in the reception 
of whose testimony consists the exercise of that faith to 
which they appeal. It was evident, that, whatever the 
reason of this miracle, it was not an exercise of docile 
and humble faith founded on evidence no more than just 


sufficient t operate as a moral test. This was a mira- 
20 * 


7 


234 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


cle which, it could not be denied, looked marvellously 
like a “judgment.” However, there were, in some cases, 
indications enough to show how difficult it is to give 
such evidence as will satisfy the obstinacy of mankind. 
One old sceptical fellow, who had been for years bed- 
ridden, was long in being convinced (if, indeed, he ever 
was) that any thing extraordinary had occurred in the 
world; he at first attributed the reports of what he heard 
to the “impudence” of his servants and dependents, and 
wondered that they should dare to venture upon such a 
joke. On finding these assertions backed by those of 
his acquaintance, he pished and pshawed, and looked 
very wise, and ironically congratulated them on this 
creditable conspiracy with the insolent rascals, his ser- 
vants. On being shown the old Bible, of which he 
recognized the binding, though he had never seen the 
inside, and finding it avery fair book of blank paper, he 
quietly observed that it was very easy to substitute the 
one book for the other, though he did not pretend to 
divine the motives which induced people to attempt such 
a clumsy piece of imposition ; and, on their persisting 
that they were not deceiving him, swore at them as a 
set of knaves, who would fain persuade him out of his 
senses. On their bringing him a pile of blank Bibles, 
backed by the asseverations of other neighbors, he was 
ready to burst with indignation. “ As to the volumes,” 
he said, “it was not difficult to procure a score or two 
‘of commonplace books, and they had doubtless done 
so to carry on the cheat; for himself, he would sooner 
believe that the whole world was leagued against him, 
than credit any such nonsense.” ‘They were angry, in 
their turn, at his incredulity, and told him that he was 
very much mistaken if he thought himself of so much 
importance that they would all perjure themselves to 
delude him, since they saw plainly enough that he could 


THE BLANK BIBLE. 235 


do that very easily for himself, without any help of theirs. 
They really did not care one farthing whether he be- 
lieved them or not; if he did not choose to believe the 
story, he might leave it alone. ‘ Well, well,’ said he, 
“it is all very fine; but unless you show me, not one 
of these blank books, which could not impose upon an 
owl, but one of the very blank Bibles themselves, I will 
not believe.” At this curious demand, one of his 
nephews who stood by (a lively young fellow) was so 
exceedingly tickled, that, though he had some expecta- 
tions from the sceptic, he could not help bursting out 
into laughter; but he became grave enough when his 
angry uncle told him that he would leave him in his 
will nothing but the family Bible, which he might make 
a leger if he pleased. Whether this resolute old 
sceptic ever vanquished his incredulity, I do not re- 
member. 

Very different from the case of this sceptic was that 
of a most excellent female relative, who had been 
equally long a prisoner to her chamber, and to whom 
the Bible had been, as to so many thousands more, her 
faithful companion in solitude, and the all-sufficient 
solace of her sorrows. I found her gazing intently on 
the blank Bible, which had been so recently bright to 
her with the lustre of immortal hopes. She burst into 
tears as she saw me. “ And has your faith left you too, 
my gentle friend?” said I. “ No,” she answered, “and 
I trust it never will. He who has taken away the : 
Bible has not taken away my memory, and I now re- 
call all that is most precious in that book which has so 
long been my meditation. It is a heavy judgment upon 
the land; and surely,” added this true Christian, never 
thinking of the faults of others, “ J, at least, cannot com- 
plain, for I have not prized as I ought that book, which 
yet, of late years, I think I can say, I loved more than 


236 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


any other possessicn on earth. But I know,” she con- 
tinued, smiling through her tears, “ that the sun shines, 
though clouds may veil him for the moment; and I am 
unshaken in my faith in those truths which have been 
transcribed on my memory, though they are blotted 
from my book. In these hopes I have lived, and in 
these hopes I will die.” “I have no consolation to 
offer to you,” said I, “for you need none.” She quoted 
many of the passages which have been, through all 
ages, the chief stay of sorrowing humanity; and I 
thought the words of Scripture had never sounded so 
solemn or so sweet before. “I shall often come to see 
you,” I said, “to hear a chapter in the Bible, for you 
know it far better than I.” 

No sooner had I taken my leave, than I was informed 
that an old lady of my acquaintance had summoned 
me in haste. She said she was much impressed by 
this extraordinary calamity. As, to my certain knowl- 
edge, she had never troubled the contents of the book, I 
was surprised that she had so taken to heart the loss of 
that which had, practically, been lost to her all her days. 
“ Sir,” said she, the moment I entered, “the Bible, the 
Bible.” “ Yes, madam,” said I, “ this is a very grievous 
and terrible visitation. J hope we may learn the les- 
sons which it is calculated to teach us.” ‘ I am sure,” 
answered she, “I am not likely to forget it for a while, 
for it has been a grievous loss to me.” “TI told her I 
was very glad.” “Glad!” she rejoined. “ Yes,” I said, 
“Tam glad to find that you think it so great a loss, for 
that loss may then be a gain indeed. ‘There is, thanks 
be to God, enough left in our memories to carry us to 
heaven.’ “ Ah! but,” said she, “the hundred pounds 
and the villany of my maid-servant. Have you not 
heard?” ‘This gave me some glimpse as to the secret 
of her sorrow. She told me that she had deposited 


THE BLANK BIBLE. Se 


several bank-notes in the leaves of her family Bible, 
thinking that, to be sure, nobody was likely to look 
there for them. “No sooner,” said she, “were the 
Bibles made useless by this strange event, than my 
servant peeped into every copy in the house, and she 
now denies that she found any thing in my old family 
Bible, except two or three blank leaves of thin paper, 
which, she says, she destroyed; that, if any characters 
were ever on them, they must have been erased when 
those of the Bible were obliterated. But I am sure 
she lies; for who would believe that Heaven took the 
trouble to blot out my precious bank-notes. They were 
not God’s word, I trow.” It was clear that she con- 
sidered the “promise to pay” better by far than any 
“promises” which the book contained. “I should not 
have cared so much about the Bible,” she whined, hypo- 
critically, “ because, as you truly observe, our memories 
may retain enough to carry us to heaven,” —a little in 
that case would certainly go a great way, I thought to 
myself, — “and if not, there are those who can supply 
the loss. But who is to get my bank-notes back again? 
Other people have only lost their Bibles.” It was, in- 
deed, a case beyond my power of consolation. 

The calamity not only strongly stirred the feelings of 
men, and upon the whole, I think, beneficially, but it 
immediately stimulated their ingenuity. It was won- 
derful to see the energy with which men discussed the 
subject, and the zeal, too, with which they ultimately 
exerted themselves to repair the loss. I could even 
hardly regret it, when I considered what a spectacle of 
intense activity, intellectual and moral, the visitation 
had occasioned. It was very early suggested, that the 
whole Bible had again and again been quoted piece- 
meal in one book or other; that it had impressed its 
own image on the surface of human literature, and had 


238 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


been reflected on its course as the stars on a stream. 
But, alas! on investigation, it was found as vain to ex- 
pect that the gle2m of starlight would still remain mir- 
rored in the water when the clouds had veiled the stars 
themselves, as that the bright characters of the Bible 
would remain reflected in the books of man when they 
had been erased from the Book of God. On inspection, 
it was found that every text, every phrase which had 
been quoted, not only in the books of devotion and the- 
ology, but in those of poetry and fiction, had been re- 
morselessly expunged. Never before had I had any 
adequate idea of the extent to which the Bible had 
moulded the intellectual and moral life of the last eigh- 
teen centuries, nor how intimately it had interfused 
itself with habits of thought and modes of expression ; 
nor how naturally and extensively its comprehensive 
imagery and language had been introduced into human 
writings, and most of all where there had been most of 
genius. A vast portion of literature became instantly 
worthless, and was transformed into so much waste- 
paper. It was almost impossible to look into any book 
of any merit, and read ten pages together, without com-_ 
ing to some provoking erasures and mutilations, some 
“hiatus valde deflendi,’ which made whole passages 
perfectly unintelligible. Many of the sweetest passages 
of Shakspeare were converted into unmeaning nonsense, 
from the absence of those words which his own all but 
divine genius had appropriated from a still diviner 
source. As to Milton, he was nearly ruined, as might — 
naturally be supposed. Walter Scott’s novels were 
filled with perpetual Jacune. I hoped it might be other- 
wise with the philosophers, and so it was; but even 
here it was curious to see what strange ravages the 
visitation had wrought. Some of the most beautiful 
and comprehensive of Bacon’s Aphorisms were Pee 
to enigmatical nonsense. 


THE BLANK BIBLE. 239 


Those who held large stocks of books knew not what 
todo. Ruin stared them in the face; their value fell 
seventy or eighty per cent. All branches of theology, 
in particular, were a drug. One fellow said, that he 
should not so much have minded if the miracle had 
sponged out what was human as well as what was 
divine, for in that case he would at least have had so 
many thousand volumes of fair blank paper, which was 
as much as many of them were worth before. A wag 
answered, that it was not usual, in despoiling a house, 
to carry away any thing except the valuables. Mean- 
time, millions of blank Bibles filled the shelves of sta- 
tioners, to be sold for day-books and legers, so that 
there seemed to be no more employment for the paper- 
makers in that direction for many years to come. A 
friend, who used to mourn over the thought of pa- 
limpsest manuscripts, — of portions of Livy and Cicero 
erased to make way for the nonsense of some old 
monkish chronicler, — exclaimed, as he saw a tradesman 
trudging off with a handsome morocco-bound quarto 
for a day-book, “Only think of the pages once filled 
with the poetry of Isaiah, and the parables of Christ, 
sponged clean to make way for orders for silks and 
satins, muslins, cheese, and bacon!” The old authors, 
of course, were left to their mutilations; there was no 
way in which the confusion could-be remedied. But 
the living began to prepare new editions of their works, 
in which they endeavored to give a new turn to the 
thoughts which had been mutilated by erasure, and I 
was not a little amused to see that many, having stolen 
from writers whose compositions were as much muti- 
lated as their own, could not tell the meaning of their 
own pages. 

It seemed at first to be a not unnatural impression, 
that even those who could recall the erased texts as they 


240 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


perused the injured books,—who could mentally fill 
up the imperfect clauses, were not at liberty to in- 
scribe them; they seemed to fear that, if they did so, 
the characters would be as if written in invisible ink, or 
would surely fade away. It was with trembling that 
some at length made the attempt, and to their unspeak- 
able joy found the impression durable. Day after day 
passed ; still the characters remained ; and the people at 
length came to the conclusion, that God left them at 
liberty, if they could, to reconstruct the Bible for them- 
selves out of their collective remembrances of its divine 
contents. This led again to some curious results, all of 
them singularly indicative of the good and ill that is in 
human nature. It was with incredible joy that men 
came to the conclusion that the book might be thus 
recovered nearly entire, and nearly in the very words 
of the original, by the combined effort of human memo- 
ries. Some of the obscurest of the species, who had 
studied nothing else but the Bible, but who had well 
studied that, came'to be objects of reverence among_ 
Christians and booksellers; and the various texts they 
quoted were taken down with the utmost care. He 
who could fill up a chasm by the restoration of words 
which were only partially remembered, or could con- 
tribute the least text that had been forgotten, was re- 
garded as a sort of public benefactor. At length, a 
great public movement amongst the divines of all de- 
nominations was projected, to collate the results of these 
partial recoveries of the sacred text. It was curious, 
again, to see in how various ways human passions and 
prejudices came into play. It was found that the 
several parties who had furnished from memory the 
same portions of the sacred texts had fallen into a great 
variety of different readings ; and though most of them 
were of as little importance in themselves as the bulk 


THE BLANK BIBLE. 241 


uf those which are paraded in the critical recensions of 
Mill, Griesbach, or Tischendorf, they became, from the 
obstinacy and folly of the men who contended about 
them, important differences, merely because the,” were 
differences. 'Ewo reverend men of the synod, I remem- 
ber, had a rather tough dispute as to whether it was 
twelve baskets full of fragments of the five loaves which 
the five thousand left, and seven baskets full of the seven 
loaves which the four thousand had left, or vice versa: 
as also whether the words in John vi. 19 were “ about 
twenty or five and twenty,” or “ about thirty or five and 
thirty furlongs.” 

To do the assembly justice, however, there was found 
an intense general earnestness and sincerity befitting 
the occasion, and an equally intense desire to obtain, 
as nearly as possible, the very words of the lost volume ; 
only (as was also, alas! natural) vanity in some; in 
others, confidence in their strong impressions and in 
the accuracy of their memory; obstinacy and perti- 
nacity in many more (all aggravated as usual by con- 
troversy), — caused many odd embarrassments before 
the final adjustment was effected. 

I was particularly struck with the varieties of reading 
which mere prejudices in favor of certain systems of 
theology occasioned in the several partisans of each. 
No doubt the worthy men were generally unconscious 
of the influence of these prejudices; yet, somehow, the 
memory was seldom so clear in relation to those texts 
which told against them as in relation to those which 
told for them. A certain Quaker had an impression 
that the words instituting the Eucharist were preceded 
by a qualifying expression, “ And Jesus said to the 
twelve, Do this in remembrance of me”; while he could 
not exactly recollect whether or not the formula of 
“baptism”? was expressed in the general terms some 

21 i 


242 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


maintained it was. Several Unitarians had a clear 
recollection, that in several places the authority of 
manuscripts, as estimated in Griesbach’s recension, was 
decidedly against the common reading; while the 'Trin- 
itarians maintained that Griesbach’s recension in those 
instances had left that reading undisturbed. An Epis- 
copalian began to have his doubts whether the usage 
in favor of the interchange of the words “ bishop ” and 
“presbyter” was so uniform as the Presbyterian and 
Independent. maintained, and whether there was not a 
passage in which Timothy and Titus were expressly 
called “ bishops.” The Presbyterian and Independent 
had similar biases; and one gentleman, who was a 
strenuous advocate of the system of the latter, enforced 
one equivocal remembrance by saying, he could, as it 
were, distinctly see the very spot on the page before 
his mind’s eye. Such tricks will imagination play with 
the memory, when preconception plays tricks with the 
imagination! In like manner, it was seen that, while 
the Calvinist was very distinct in his recollection of the 
ninth chapter of Romans, his memory was very faint as 
respects the exact wording of some of the verses in the 
Epistle of James; and though the Arminian had a 
most vivacious impression of all those passages which 
spoke of the claims of the law, he was in some doubt 
whether the Apostle Paul’s sentiments respecting human 
depravity, and justification by faith alone, had not been 
a little exaggerated. In short, it very clearly appeared 
that tradition was no safe guide; that if, even while 
she was hardly a month old, she could play such freaks 
with the memories of honest people, there was but a 
sorry prospect of the secure transmission of truth for 
eighteen hundred years. From each man’s memory 
seemed to glide something or other which he was not 
inclined to retain there, and each seemed to substitute 
in its stead something that he liked better, 


THE BLANK BIBLE. 243 


Though the assembly was in the main most anxious 
to come to a right decision, and really advanced an 
immense way towards completing a true and faithful 
copy of the lost original, the disputes which arose, on 
almost every point of theology, promised the world an 
abundant crop of new sects and schisms. Already there 
had sprung up several whose names had never been 
heard of in the world, but for this calamity. Amongst 
them were two who were called the “ Long Memories” 
and the “ Short Memories.” Their general tendencies 
coincided pretty much with those of the orthodox and 
the rationalists. 

It was curious to see by what odd associations, some- 
times of contrast, sometimes of resemblance, obscure 
texts were recovered, though they were verified, when 
once mentioned, by the consciousness of hundreds. 
One old gentleman, a miser, contributed (and it was all 
he did contribute) a maxim of prudence, which he rec- 
ollected, principally from having systematically abused 
it. All the ethical maxims, indeed, were soon collect- 
ed; for though, as usual, no one recollected his own 
peculiar duties or infirmities, every one, as usual, kindly 
remembered those of his neighbors. Husbands remem- 
bered what was due from their wives, and wives what 
was due from their husbands. The unpleasant sayings 
about “better to dwell on the house-top” and “the 
perpetual dropping on a very rainy day” were called 
to mind by thousands. Almost the whole of Proverbs 
and Ecclesiastes were contributed, in the merest frag- 
ments, in this way. As for Solomon’s “times for every 
thing,” few could remember them all, but every body 
remembered some. Undertakers said there was a “ time 
to mourn,” and comedians that there was a “time to 
laugh”; young ladies innumerable remembered that 
there was a “time to love,” and people of all kinds 


244 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


that there was a “time to hate”; every body knew 
there was a “time to speak,” but a worthy Quaker 
reminded them that there was also a “time to keep 
silence.” 

Some dry parts of the laws of Moses were recovered 
by the memory of jurists, who seemed to have no 
knowledge whatever of any other parts of the sacred 
volume; while in like manner one or two antiquarians 
supplied some very difficult genealogical and chrono- 
logical matters, in equal ignorance of the moral and 
spiritual contents of the Scriptures. 

As people became accustomed to the phenomenon, 
the perverse humors of mankind displayed themselves 
in a variety of ways. The efforts of the pions assembly 
were abundantly laughed at; but I must, in justice, 
add, without driving them from their purpose. Some 
profane wags suggested there was now a good oppor- 
tunity of realizing the scheme of taking “not” out of 
the Commandments and inserting it in the Creed. But 
they were sarcastically told, that the old objection to 
the plan would still apply; that they would not sin 
with equal relish if they were expressly commanded to 
do so, nor take such pleasure in infidelity if infidelity 
became a duty. Others said that, if the world must 
wait till the synod had concluded its labors, the proph- 
ecies of the New Testament would not be written till 
some time after their fulfilment; and that, if all the con- 
jectures of the learned divines were inserted in the new 
edition of the Bible, the declaration in John would be 
literally verified, and that “the world itself would not 
contain all the books which would be written.” 

But the most amusing thing of all was to see, as 
time made man more familiar with this strange event, 
the variety of speculations which were entertained re- 
specting its object and design. Many began gravely to 


THE BLANK BIBLE. 945 


question whether it was the duty of the synod to at- 
tempt the reconstruction of a book of which God him- 
self had so manifestly deprived the world, and whether 
it was not a profane, nay, an atheistical, attempt to 
frustrate his will. Some, who were secretly glad to be 
released from so troublesome a book, were particularly 
pious on this head, and exclaimed bitterly against this 
rash attempt to counteract and cancel the decrees of 
Heaven. The Papists, on their part, were confident 
that the design was to correct the exorbitancies of a 
rabid Protestantism, and show the world, by direct 
miracle, the necessity of submitting to the Vecision of . 
their Church’ and the infallibility of the supreme Pon- 
tiff; who, as they truly alleged, could decide all knotty 
points quite as well without the Word of God as with 
it. On being reminded that the writings of the Fathers, 
on which they laid so much stress as the vouchers of 
their traditions, were mutilated by the same stroke 
which had demolished the Bible (all their quotations 
from the sacred volume being erased), some of the 
Jesuits affirmed that many of the Fathers were rather 
improved than otherwise by the omission, and that they 
found these writings quite as intelligible and not less 
edifying than before. In this, many Protestants very 
cordially agreed. On the other hand, many of our 
modern infidels gave an entirely new turn to the whole 
affair, by saying that the visitation was evidently not 
in judgment, but in mercy; that God in compassion, 
and not in indignation, had taken away a book which 
man had regarded with an extravagant admiration and 
idolatry, and which they had exalted to the place of 
that clear internal oracle which He had planted in the 
human breast; in a word, that, if it was a rebuke at all, 
it was a rebuke to a rampant “Bibliolatry.” As I 


heard all these different versions of so simple a matter, 
a1 


246 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


and found that not a few were inclined to each, I could 
not help exclaiming, “In truth the Devil is a very clev- 
er fellow, and man even a greater blockhead than I had 
taken him for.” But in spite of the surprise with which 
Thad listened to these various explanations of an event 
which seemed to me clear as if written with a sunbeam, 
this /ast reason, which assigned as the cause of God’s 
resumption of his own gift, an extravagant admiration 
and veneration of it on the part of mankind, — it being 
so notorious that those who professed belief in its divine 
origin and authority had (even the best of them) so 
grievously neglected both the study and the practice of 
it, — struck me as so exquisitely ludicrous, that I broke 
into a fit of laughter, which awoke me. I found that it 
was broad daylight, and the morning sun was stream- 
ing in at the window, and shining in quiet radiance 
upon the open Bible which lay on my table. So strong- 
ly had my dream impressed me, that I almost felt as 
though, on inspection, I should find the sacred leaves a 
blank, and it was therefore with joy that my eyes rested 
on those words, which I read through grateful tears : 
“ The gifts of God are without repentance.” 


July 19. This morning my friends treated me to a 
long dialogue, in which it was contended 


Tat Miractes are IMPOSSIBLE, BUT THAT IT Is 
IMPOSSIBLE TO PROVE IT, 


“J think, Fellowes,” Harrington began, “if there be 
any point in which you and [I are likely to agree, it is in 
that dogma that miracles are impossible. And yet here, 
as usual, my sceptical doubts pursue and baffle me. I 
wish you would try with me whether there be not an 
“scape from them.” Fellowes assented. 


r - 
— 


MIRACLES. 247 


“ As I have to propose and explain my doubts,” said 
Harrington, “perhaps you will excuse my taking the 
‘lion’s share’ of the conversation. But now, by way 
of beginning’ in some way,— what, my dear friend, is 
a miracle ?” 

“ What is a miracle? Ay, that is the question; but 
though it may be difficult to find an exact definition of 
t, it is easily understood by every body.” 

“ Very likely ; then you can with more ease give me 
your notion of it.” 

“Tf, for example,” said Fellowes, “the sun which has 
risen so long, every morning, were to rise no more; or 
if a man, whom we knew to be dead and buried, were 
to come to life again; or if what we know to be water 
were at once to become wine, none would hesitate to 
call that a miracle.” 

“You remember, perhaps,” said Harrington, “an 
amusing little play of Socratic humor in the dialogue 
of Theztetus, somewhere in the introduction, when the 
ironical querist has asked that intelligent youth what 
science is? 

“J cannot say that I do; for though I have read that 
dialogue, it is some years ago.” 

“ Let me read you the passage then. Here it is,” 
said Harrington, reaching down the dialogue and turn- 
ing to the place. “‘ Tell me frankly? says Socrates, 
‘what do you think science is? ‘It appears to me,’ says 
Theetetus, ‘that such things as one may learn trom 
Theodorus here,— namely, geometry, as well as other 
things which you have just enumerated; and again, 
that the shoemaker’s art, and those of other artisans, — 
all and each of them are nothing else but science.’ 
‘ You are munificent indeed) said Socrates; ‘for when 
asked for one thing, you have given many. I almost 
think,” continued Harring‘on, “that, if Socrates were 


248 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


here, he would do what I should not presume to do, — 
banter you in asomewhat similar way. He would say, 
that, having asked what a miracle was, Mr. Fellowes 
_ told him that half a dozen things were miracles, but 
did not tell him what every miracle was; that is, never 
told him what made all miracles such. Suffer me 
again to ask you what a miracle is?” 

“T recollect now enough of the charming dialogue 
from which you have taken occasion to twit me, to an- 
swer you in the same vein. As it turns out, Socrates 
appears to be at least equally ignorant with ‘heetetus 
as to the definition of which he is in search. I think it 
may be as well for me to do at once what certainly 
Theatetus would have done, had he known that his re- 
prover was as much in the dark as himself.” 

* What is that?” said Harrington. 

“ He would have cut short a good deal of banter by 
at once turning the tables upon his ironical tormentor ; 
acknowledging his impotence, and making him give 
the required definition. Come, let me take that course.” 

“T have no objection, my friend, if you will first, as 
you say, acknowledge your impotence; only I would 
not advise you, for in that case you would be obliged to 
confess that you have resolved with me that a miracle is 
impossible, and yet that you are not quite sure that you 
can tell, or rather own that you cannot, what a miracle 
is. Let me entreat you to essay some definition; and 
if you break down, I have no objection to take my 
chance of the honor of success or the ignominy of 
failure.” ‘ 

“ The fact is,” answered Fellowes, “that, like many 
other things, it is better understood a 

“'Than described, as the novelists say, when they 
feel that their powers of description fail them. But 
his will hardly dc for us; we are philosophers, you 


MIRACLES. 249 


know, ( save the mark!) in search of truth.— A thing 
that is well known by every body, and is capable of be- 
ing described by nobody, would be almost a miracle of 
itself; and I think it imports us to give some better 
account of the matter. I can see that my orthodox 
uncle there is already secretly amusing himself at the 
anticipation of our perplexities.” 

I took no notice of the remark, but went on writing. 

“ Well, then, if I must give you some definition,” 
said Fellowes, “I know not if I can do better than 
avail myself of the usual one, that it is a suspension 
or violation of a law of nature. Is not that the ac- 
count which Hume gives of the matter ?” 

“T think itis. Iam afraid, however, that at the very 
outset we should have some difficulty in determining 
one of the phrases used in this very definition, — name- 
ly, how we are to understand a law of nature. I do 
not ask whether daw implies a lawgiver; you will as- 
sert it, and I shall not gainsay it: it is at present im- 
material. But do you not mean by a law of nature (I 
am asking the question merely to ascertain whether or 
not we are thinking of the same thing) just this; — the 
fact that similar phenomena uniformly reappear in an 
observed series of antecedents and consequents, which 
series is invariable so far as we know, and so far as oth- 
ers know, whose experience we can fest? Is not that 
what you mean? Youdo not, I presume, suppose you 
know any thing of the connection which binds together 
causes and effects, or the manner in which the secret 
bond (if there be any) which unites antecedents and 
consequents, in any natural phenomena, is main- 
tained?” 

“TJ certainly make no such pretensions; all that I 
mean by a law of nature is just what you have men- 
tioned. I shall be well content *« adhere to your ex- 
planation,” answered Fellowes. 


250 ° THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“ So that when we observe similar phenomena repro- 
duced in the aforesaid series of antecedents and conse- 
quents, we call that a law of nature, and affirm that a 
violation of that law would be a miracle, and impos- 
sible ?” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ And further, do you not agree with me that such 
invariable series is sufficiently certified to us by our 
own uniform experience, — that of all our neighbors 
and friends, — and, in a word, that of all whose expe- 
rience we can test?” 

“T agree with you.” 

“J am content,” replied Harrington; “but at the 
outset it seems to me that the expression I have used 
requires a little expansion to meet the sophistry of our 
opponents. I will either explain myself now, and then 
leave you to judge; or I will say no more of the mat- 
ter here, but pursue our discussion, and let the difficulty 
(if there be one) disclose itself in the course of it, and 
be provided for as may be in our power.” 

« What is it?” | | 

“It is this;—that it cannot, with truth, be said, in 
relation to many phenomena, that (so far as our experi- 
ence informs us) they do follow each other in an abso- 
‘lutely invariable order; which phenomena, nevertheless, 
we believe to be as much under the dominion of law as 
the rest; and any violation of this law, I presume, you 
would think as much a miracle as any other. For ex- 
ample, we do not find the same remedies or the same 
regimen will produce the same effects upon different in- 
dividuals at different times; again, the varieties of the 
weather, in every climate, are dependent upon so many 
causes, that it transcends all human skill to calculate 
them. Yet I dare say you can easily imagine certain 
degrees and continuity of change in these variable phe- . 


MIRACLES. 251 


nomena which you would not hesitate to call as much 
miracles as if the dead were raised, or the sun stayed in 
mid-heaven.” 

“ Yes, unquestionably,” replied Fellowes; “if I 
found, for instance, that a dozen men could take an 
ounce of arsenic or half a pound of opium with impu- 
nity, I should not hesitate to regard it as a miracle, al- 
though the precise amount sufficient to kill in any par- 
ticular case might not be capable of being ascertained. 
In the same manner, if I found that though the amount 
of heat and cold in summer and winter in our climate 
is subject to marked variations, yet that suddenly for 
several consecutive years we had more frost in July 
than in December ; that gooseberries and currants were 
getting ripe on Christmas day, and men were skating 
on the Serpentine on the 10th of August, I should cer- 
tainly argue that a change tantamount to a miracle had 
been wrought in nature.” 

“ You have just expressed my own feelings on that 
point,” said Harrington; “and it was this very consid- 
eration which made me say, that, in order to render my 
expression perfectly clear, and to obviate misconception 
and misrepresentation, we must endeavor to include 
this very frequent case of a certain limited variation 
from the order of nature as consistent with the absence 
of miracle, and a certain degree of that variation as in- 
consistent with it.” 

“ Will you just state our criterion once more, with 
the limitation attached; and then I shall know better 
whether we are certainly agreed in the criterion we 
ought to employ ?” 

“ I say, then,” resumed Harrington, “ that our uniform 
experience, that of our friends and neighbors, and of 
all whose experience we have the opportunity of test- 
ing, as to the order of nature, — meaning by that either 


252 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


an order absolutely invariable, or varying only within 
limits which are themselves absolutely invariable, — jus- 
tifies us in pronouncing an event contradicting such 
experience to be an impossibility. If the principle is 
worth any thing, let us embrace it, and inflexibly ap- 
ply it.” 

“ And I, for one,” replied Fellowes, “am quite satis- 
fied with the principle and the limitations you have 
laid down; and am so confident of its correctness, that 
I do not hesitate to say that all the miraculous histories 
on record are to be summarily rejected.” 

“ For example,” said Harrington, “we have seen the 
sun rise every morning and set every evening all our 
lives; and every one whose experience we can test has 
seen the same. Hvery man who has come into the 
world has come into it but one way, and has as cer- 
tainly gone out of it, and has not returned; and every 
one whose experience we can test affirms the same. 
We therefore conclude on this uniform and invariable 
experience, that the same sequences took place yester- 
day and the day before, and will take place to-morrow 
and the day after; and we may fearlessly apply this 
principle both to the past and the future. I know of 
no other reason for rejecting a miracle; and if I am to 
apply the principle at all to phenomena which have 
not fallen under my own observation, I must apply it 
without restriction.” 

“JT am quite of your mind.” 

“ You think, with me, that our experience, — the ex- 
perience of those about us, — the experience of all whose 
experience we have the means of testing, — is sufficient 
to settle the question as to the experience of those 
whose experience we have not the means of testing; 
who lived, for example, a thousand years before we 
were born; or in a distant part of the world, where we 
have never been ?” 


MIRACLES. _ 208 


“ Certainly ; why should we hesitate so to apply it?” 

“Tam sure I know not; and you see I am noé un- 
willing so to apply it. Only I asked the question, be- 
cause we must not forget that many say it is begging 
the question ; for, as a ‘miracle’ has not been exerted 
on us to give us a vision of the past experience of man, 
or his present experience in any part of the world we 
never visited, our opponents affirm, that to say that the 
experience we trust to has been and is the universal 
experience of man, is a clear petitio principt.” 

“Surely,” said Fellowes, “it may be said that the 
general experience of mankind has been of such a char- 
acter.” 

“ Exactly so, as a postulate from our experience, as 
a generalized assumption that our experience may be 
taken as a specimen and criterion of all experience. 
We assume that,— we do not prove it. It is just as 
in any other case of induction; we say, ‘ Because this 
is true in twenty or thirty or a hundred instances (as 
the case may be), which we can test,— therefore it is 
generally or universally true’; we do not say, because 
this is true in these instances, and because it is also 
generally or universally true, therefore it is so! No; 
our true premise is restricted to what alone we know 
from our experience and the experience of all whose 
experience we can test if we please. This is our real 
ground on which we are to justify our rejection of all 
miracles, and let us adhere to it. As to your general 
experience, you see, the advocate of miracles easily gets 
over that. He says, ‘ Why, no one pretends that mir- 
acles are as “plenty as blackberries”; otherwise they 
would no longer be miracles; these are comparatively 
rare events, of course; and, being rare, are necessarily 
at variance with general experience’; and, for my part, 


Ushould not know how to answer the objection.” 
22 


2od THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“ Well, then,” said Fellowes, “let us adhere to that 
which is our real ground of objection, and let us con- 
sistently apply it.” 

“With all my heart,” said Harrington; “we agree, 
then, that our own uniform experience, — that of all 
our neighbors and friends,— in fact, of all whose ex- 
perience we can test, is a sufficient criterion of a law 
of nature, and justifies us in at once rejecting as im- 
possible any alleged fact which violates it.” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ For example, if it were asserted that last year the 
sun never rose on a certain day, or, rather, for twenty- 
four hours the rotation of the earth ceased, we should 
instantly reject the story, without examination of wit- 
nesses, or any such thing.” 

“ No doubt of that.” 

“ And just so in other cases. This, then, is our 
ground. You would not (if I may advise) lay much 
stress on the fact that there have been so many stories 
of a supernatural kind false.” 

“ Why, I do not know whether it would not be wise 
to insist upon that argument. It seems to be not with- 
out weight,” urged Fellowes. 

+ Pattiape so,” replied Harrington; “but it has, you 
see, this inconvenience, of proving more than you want. 
The greater part’ by far of all religions have. been false. 
But you affirm that there is one little system absolutely 
true. The greater part of the theories of science and 
philosophy, which men, from time to time, have framed, 
have also been false ; and yet you believe that there is 
such a thing as true philosophy and true science. Simi- 
larly, the generality of political governments have been 
founded on vicious principles, yet you hope for a politi- 
cal millennium at last. In short, the argument would 
go to prove, that, as there can never have been any 


MIRACLES. (255 


true miracles because there have been so many false 
ones, so, for similar reasons, it is mere ‘vanity and 
vexation of spirit’ to search after truth in religion, or 
science, or politics; and though a sceptic, like myself, 
might not much mind it, perhaps it would trammel 
such a positive philosopher as you. Nay, a pertinacious 
opponent might even say, that, as you believe that in 
all these last cases there is a substance, else there would 
not have been the shadows, so, with reference to mira- 
cles, the very general belief of them rather argues that 
there have been miracles, than that there have been 
none. My advice is, that we adhere to these reasons 
we have assigned, for they are our real reasons.” 

“ Be it so; I hate miracles so much, that I care not 
by what means the doltish delusion is dissipated.” 

‘“ Only that the weapons should be fair?” 

* O; of course/?: 

“ T’o resume, then. I say, that, if we were told that 
last year an event of such a miraculous nature occurred 
as that the earth did not revolve for twenty-four hours 
together, we should at once reject it, without any ex- 
amination of witnesses, or troubling ourselves with any 
thing of the kind.” 

“ Unquestionably.” 

“ And if it were said to have occurred twenty years 
ago, we should take the same course.” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ And so if any such event were said to have oc- 
curred eighteen hundred years ago?” 

“ Agreed.” 

“ And if such events were said at that day to have 
occurred eighteen hundred years previously, we believe, 
of course, the men of that time would have been equally 
entitled to reason in the same way about them as our- 
selves; and, in short, that we may fearlessly apply the 
same principle to the same epoch.” 


256 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“ Of course.” 

“ And so for two thousand years before that; and; 
in fact, we must believe that every thing has always 
been going on in the same manner, — the sun always 
rising and setting, men dying and never rising again, 
and so forth.” 

“ Exactly so, even from the beginning of the crea- 
tion,” said Fellowes. 

“ The beginning of the creation! My good fellow, 
‘I do not understand you. As we have been going 
back, we have seen that there is no period at which the 
same principle of judgment will not apply, and, follow- 
ing it fearlessly, I say that we are in all fairness bound 
to believe that there never has been a period when the 
present order has been different from what it is; in 
other words, that the progression has been an eternal 
ty 

“ T cannot admit that argument,” said Fellowes. 

“ Then be pleased to provide me with a good answer 
to it, which will still leave us at liberty to say, that a 
miracle (that is, a variation from the order of nature 
as determined by our uniform experience, and by that 
of the whole circle of our contemporaries) is impossi- 
ble, and that we may reject at once any pretension of 
the kind.” 

“ But I do not admit that the creation of any thing 
or of all things is of the nature of a miracle.” 

Harrington smiled. “I am afraid,” said he, “ that 
to common sense, to fair reasoning, to any philosopher 
worthy of the name, there would be no difference, 
except in magnitude, between such an event as the © 
sudden appearance of an animal (say man) for the first 
time in our world, or the first appearance of a tree (such 
a thing never having been before), and the restoration 
to life of adead man. Lach is, to all intents and pur- 


MIRACLES. 207 


poses, a violation of the previous established series of 
antecedents and consequents, and comes strictly within 
the limits of our definition of a miracle; and a miracle, 
you know, is impossible. The only difference will be, 
that the miracle in the one case will be greater and 
more astonishing than that in the other.” 

“ But it is impossible, in the face of geologists, to 
contend that there have not been many such revolutions 
in the history of the world as these. Man himself is of 
comparatively recent introduction into our system.” 

“T cannot help what the geologists affirm. If we 
are to abide by our principle, we have no warrant to 
believe that there have been any such violatiohs, or in- 
fractions, or revolutions of nature’s laws in the world’s 
history. If they contend for the interpolation of events 
in the history of the universe, which, by our criterion, 
are of the nature of miracles, and we are convinced 
that miracles are impossible, we must reject the con- 
clusions of geologists.” 

“ But may we not say, that the great epochs in the 
history of the universe are themselves but the mani- 
festation of law ?” 

“In no other sense, I think, than the advocate of 
miracles is entitled to say that the intercalation of 
miracles in the world’s history is also according to law, 
— parts, though minute parts, of a universal plan, and 
permitted for reasons worthy of the Creator. To both, 
or neither, is the same answer open. Your objection 
is, | think, a mere sophistical evasion of the difficulty. 
There is no difference whatever in the nature of the 
events, except that the variation from the ‘established 
series of sequences’ is infinitely greater in those por- 
tentous revolutions of the universe to which the geolo- 
gist points your attention. The application of our 
principle (as you affirm with me) will justify us in at 

22 * 


258 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


once pronouncing any variation from the ‘ established 
series, whether occurring yesterday, a year ago, a 
thousand years ago, or a million of years ago, incredi- 
ble ; it will, in the same manner, justify the men of any 
age in saying the same of all previous ages; and I, 
therefore, while contending for your principle with you, 
carry it consistently out, and affirm that the established 
series of antecedents and consequents (as we now find 
it) must be regarded as eternal, because creation would 
do what a miracle is supposed to do, and a miracle, 
you know, is impossible. You are silent.” 

“Tam not able to retract acquiescence in the prin- 
- ciple, and I am as little inclined to concede the conclu- 
sions you would draw from it.” 

“ As you please; only, in the latter case, provide me 
with an answer. If you saw now introduced on the 
earth for the first time a being as unlike man as man 
is unlike the other animals, —say with seven senses, 
wings on his shoulders, a pair of eyes behind his head 
as well as in front of it, and the tail of a peacock, by 
way of finishing him off handsomely, — would you not 
call such a phenomenon a miracle ? ” 

“ [think I should,” said Fellowes, laughing. 

“ And if the creature died, leaving no issue, would 
you continue to call it so?” 

i Nes? 

“But if you found that he was the head of a race, 
as man was, and a whole nation of such monsters 
springing from him, then would you say that this won- 
derful intrusion into the sphere of our experience was 
no miracle, but that it was merely according to law?” 

“J should.” 

“ Verily, my dear friend, I am afraid the world will 
laugh at us for making such fantastical distinctions. 
This infraction of «stablished sequences’ ceases to be 


MIRACLES. 259 


miraculous, if the wonder is perpetuated and sufficiently 
multiplied! Meantime, what becomes of the prodigy 
during the time in which it is wxcerfain whether any 
thing will come of it or not?) You will say, I suppose, 
(the interpolation in the ‘series’ of phenomena being 
just what I have supposed.) that it is wxcertain whether 
it is to be regarded as miraculous or not, éil2 we know 
whether t ts to be repeated or not.” 

*T think I must, if I adhere to the principle I am 
now defending.” 

® Very well; only in the mean time you are in the 
ludicrous position of facing a phenomenon of which you 
do not know whether you will call it a miracle or not, — 
the contingency, meantime, on which it is to be decid- 
ed, not at all, as I contend, affecting the matter; since 
you allow that it is the infraction of the previously 
established order of sequences, as known to uniform 
experience, which constitutes a miracle! If so, I must 
maintain that the creation of man was, for the same 
reasons, of the essence of a miracle. You seem to think 
there is no objection to the admission of miracles, pro- 
vided they are astounding and numerous enough; or 
provided they are a long time about, instead of being 
instantaneously wrought. I must remind you, that to 
the principle of our argument these things are quite 
immaterial. Whether the revolution by which the 
established order of sequences is absolutely infringed, 
— the face of the universe or of our globe transformed, 
or an entirely new race (as, for example, man) origi- 
nated, — I say, whether such change be produced slow- 
ly or quickly is of no consequence in the world to our 
argument. It is whether or not a series of phenomena 
be produced as absolutely transcending the sphere of all 
experience, as those events we admit to be tmpessidle, 
called ‘miracles’ That the introduction of man upon 


260 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


the earth for the first time (for you will not allow his 
race eternal), or the origination of a sun, is not at all 
to be reckoned as transcending that experience, I can- 
not understand. Nor can I understand it a bit better 
by your saying that it is in conformity with the vague 
something you are pleased to call a law. Itisa very 
safe phrase, however; for as neither you nor any one 
else can interpret it, no one can refute you. This law 
is a most convenient thing! It repeals, it appears to 
me, all other laws, — even. those of logic. Perhaps it 
would be better to say that miracles are no miracles 
when they are ‘lawful’ miracles. No! let us keep our 
principle intact from all such dangerous admissions as 
these. In that way only are we safe.” 

“Safe do you call it? Isee not how, if we carry 
out this principle in the way and to the extent you pro- 
pose, we can reply to the atheist or to the pantheist, 
who tells us that the universe is but an cternal evolu- 
tion of phenomena in one infinite series, or in an eternal 
recurrence of finite cycles.” 

“ And what is that to you or me? How can we help 
our principle (if we are to hold it at all) leading to some 
such conclusion? Weare, I presume, anxious to know 
the truth. You see that Strauss, who is the most stren- 
uous assertor of the impossibility of miracles, is also a 
pantheist. I know not whether you may not become 
one yourself.” 

“ Never,” said Fellowes, vehemently ; “ never, I trust, 
shall I yield to that ‘desolating pantheism’ (as worthy 
Mr. Newman calls it) which is now so rife.” 

“TY think Mr. Newman’s principles ought to guide 
you thither. You seem to hold fast by his skirts at 
present ; but I very much doubt whether you have yet 
reached the termination of your career. You have, you 
must admit, made advances quite as extraordinary 
before.” 


nnn 


MIRACLES. 261 


“ We shall see.— But I suppose you have reached 
the end of the objections which your wayward scepti- 
cism suggests against a conclusion which we both ad- 
mit; or have you any more ?” 

« O, plenty; and amongst the rest, ] am afraid we 
must admit — whether we admit or not your expedient 
of Jaw—a miracle, or something indistinguishable 
from it, as involved in the creation and preservation of 
the first man, —since you will have a first man.” 

“ What do you mean?” 

“T mean, that supposing the creation of man to be 
no miracle, because he entered by Jaw; or that that 
first fact (which would otherwise be miraculous) is not 
such, simply because it is the first of a series of such 
facts, — I should like to see whether we have not even 
then to deal with a miracle, or a fact as absolutely 
unigue ; and which was not connected with any series 
of similar facts.” 

“ ] think you would find it very hard to prove it.” 

“ Nous verrons. Iam sure we shall not disagree as 
to the fact that man, however he came into the world, 
sooner or later, by ordinary or extraordinary methods, 
by some lawful wedlock of nature, or by some miracle 
which is not ‘lawful, is endowed by nature with vari- 
ous faculties and susceptibilities.” 

« Certainly,’ said Fellowes, laughing; “if you de- 
mand my assent to nothing more than that, I shall 
easily admit your premises and deny your conclusion.” 

« You will also admit, I think, that the process by 
which man comes to the use of these faculties, and 
powers, and so forth, is very gradual?” 

“* Assuredly.” 

« And will you not also admit that the development 
and command of these is something very different from 
the ‘ potentialities’ themselves, as my uncle here would 


. 


262 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


call them ? — that, for example, we have the faculty of 
vision; but that the art of seeing involves a slow and 
laborious process, acquired not without the concurrent 
exercise of other senses: and that the apparatus for 
walking is perfect even in an infant; but that the art of 
walking is, in fact, a wonderful acquisition : further, 
that the command given us by these faculties, as actu- 
ally exercised, is immensely greater than would be con- 
ferred by each alone. In one word, you will allow that 
man, when he comes to the use of his faculties, is, as 
has been well said, a bundle of habits, or, as Burke puts 
it, is a creature who, to a great extent, has the making 
of himself.” 

“Tam much at my ease,” said Fellowes; “I shall 
not dispute any of these premises either.” 

“ And will you not also admit that, as man comes 
into the world new, a long time is required for this de- 
velopment; and that during that time he is absolutely 
dependent on the care of those who have already in their 
turn required similar care?” 

“ Seeing that we have had fathers and mothers, —as I 
suppose our grandfathers and grandmothers also had, — 
there can be as little doubt of this as of the preceding 
points,” said Fellowes, rather condescendingly. 

“And that many of the functions which thus task 
their care are necessary for our existence, and for any 
chance of our being able to develop into men.” 

“ I think so, of course.” 

“So that, if an infant were exposed on a mountain- 
side or forest, you would have no doubt he would perish 
(unless it pleased some kind-hearted wolf to suckle 
him) before he could come to the use of his faculties, 
and develop them by exercise.” 

“] think,” said the other, “ your premises perfectly 
innocent; I shall not contest them.” 


MIRACLES. 263 


“ A little further,” said Harrington, “we may go to- 
gether; and then, if I mistake not, you will pause be- 
fore you go one step further. This, then, is the normal 
condition of humanity ?” 

e¥iés./? 

“Do you think the first man was like us in these 
respects ? ” 

“ T cannot tell.” 

“TY dare engage you cannot,—it is a very natural 
answer. But he either was, I suppose, or was noé. 
That, I think, you will grant me.” He assented, though 
rather reluctantly. 

“ Pray please yourself,” said Harrington; “for it is 
quite immaterial to me which alternative you take. If 
man was in our condition, then, though the ‘lawful 
miracle’ by which he was brought into the world might 
have made him a baby of six feet high, he would have 
been no more than a baby still. All that was to consti- 
tute him a man,— all those habits by which alone his 
existence was capable of being preserved, — and without 
which he must have perished immediately after his 
creation, in which case you and I should have been 
spared the necessity of all this discussion on the subject, 
— would have to be learned; and his existence during 
that time — and a long time it must have been, having 
no teachers and aids, as we have—must have been 
preserved by a—vmiracle. If he were taught by the 
Creator himself, then we have the miracle in that direc- 
tion. If he were not brought into the world under the 
same conditions of development as we are, but with 
habits ready made, — if, indeed, that be not a contra- 
diction, — then we have a miracle in that direction ; if 
he had his faculties preternaturally quickened and ex- 
panded, so as to acquire instantaneously, or possess by 
instinct, what we acquire by a long and slow process, 


264 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


and not for many years,—then we have a miracle in 
that direction. If you do not like these suppositions, 
I see but one other; and that is, that, being a baby, — 
though, as I said, a baby six feet high, — he had an an- 
gel nurse sent down expressly to attend him, and to 
push or wheel him about the walls of paradise in a 
celestial go-cart. But then I think that in this last 
particular we shall hardly say that we have got rid of 
a miracle, though it would doubtless be a miracle of a 
very ludicrous kind. If you can imagine any other 
supposition, I shall be glad to hear it.” 

“T acknowledge I can form no supposition on the 
subject.” 

“ Only remember that, if you could, the theory would 
still suppose man’s actual preservation and develop- 
ment effected under totally different conditions from 
those which have formed the uniform experience of all 
his posterity ; and so far from any subterfuge of a law 
stepping in, it is a single expedient provided for our 
first parent alone.” 

“JT do not think we are at all in a condition to con- 
sider any such case, about which we cannot know any 
thing,” replied Fellowes. 

“ Neither do J; but pardon me,—the question J 
asked does not depend upon any such knowledge ; it is 
a question which is wholly independent whether of our 
ignorance or our knowledge. Granting, as you do, that 
man was created, but that it was no miracle, nor any 
thing analogous to one (as you say), still either he was 
created subject to our conditions of development and 
preservation, or he was not; if he was not, then I fear 
we have in form the miracle we wish to evade; if he 
was, then I fear also that there are but the three imagi- 
nable modes of obviating the difficulty which I have 
so liberally provided; and supposing there were a thou- . 


MIRACLES. 965 


sand, I fear still that they all involve a departure from 
the ‘ uniform course of nature.’ ” 

“But I do not see,” replied Fellowes, “that it is 
absolutely necessary, supposing that the first man was 
thrown upon the green of paradise ” 

“ Or in a forest, or on a moor,” said Harrington, “ for 
you know nothing of paradise.” 

“ Well, then, in a forest, or on a moor; — I say if man 
were cast out there, the same helpless being which all 
his posterity are, — unfortified, as the lower animals are, 
by feathers or hair, or by instincts equal to theirs, — 
who can affirm that it was beyond the possibilities of 
his nature, that he might survive this cruel experiment? 
crawl, perhaps, for an indefinite period on all fours; 
live on berries, and at last—by very slow degrees 
doubtless, but still at last — emerge into i? 

“The dignity of a savage,” cried Harrington, “as 
the jirst step towards something better, — his Creator 
having beneficensly created him something infinitely 
worse! Surely, you must be returning to a savage 
yourself, even to hint at such a pedigree. But I have 
done: till those cases of which certain philosophers 
hare said so much have been authenticated ; till you 
can produce an instance of a new-born babe, exposed 
on a mountain-side, in all the helplessness of his natal 
hour, and self-preserved, — nay, two of them,— for you 
must at least have a pair of these ‘babes in the wood’ ; 
and till, moreover, it can be shown that they would 
have survived this experiment so as to preserve the 
characteristics of humanity a little better-than the ‘ wild 
boy of Germany,’ and were fit to be the heads of the 
human family, —I shall at times be strangely tempted 
to embrace any theory as infinitely more probable. I 
cannot think it was in this way that our first parents 

“made their entrée into the world. I hope not, for the 
23 


266 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


credit of the Creator, as well as for the happiuess of his 
offspring. Of the moral bearings of such a brutal theory, 
I say nothing ; but if it can be true, all I can say is, that 
Iam glad that you and J, my dear Fellowes, are not 
the immediate children, but so fortunate as to be only 
the great-great-great-great-grandchildren of God! You 
have well called it a ‘cruel experiment’; according to 
this, the first Father of all thrust forth his children into 
the world to be for an indefinite time worse than the 
beasts, who were carefully provided against miserable 
man’s inconveniences! Certainly, I think you may 
alter the account of man’s creation given in Genesis, to 
ereat advantage. Instead of God’s saying, ‘ Let us 
create man in’our image, he must be supposed to have 
said, ‘ Let us create man in the image of a Beast: and 
in the image of a Bras? created he him, male and fe- 
male created he them’; and very imperfect beasts they 
must have been, after all. This is that old savage the- 
ory which I had supposed was pretty well abandoned. 
If the necessity of denying miracles imposes any ne- 
cessity of believing that, I fear that I shall stoner be got 
to believe a thousand.” : 

“ Well,” said Fellowes, who seemed ashamed of this 
theory, but knew not how to abandon it; “I cannot 
believe there have been any miracles, and, what is more, 
T will not.” 

“ That is perhaps the best reason you have given 
yet,” said Harrington. “ The Will is indeed your only 
irresistible logician. You are one degree, at all events, 
better off than I, for I can hardly say either that I be- 
lieve, or that I do not believe, in miracles.” 

“ And yet,’ continued Harrington, after a pause, 
“two or three other strange consequences seem to 
follow from that seemingly undeniable principle on 


OO 


which we base the conclusion that there neither has~ 


MIRACLES. 267 


been nor can be any such thing as a miracle; in other 
words, a departure from the established series of se- 
quences which, as tested by our own experience and by 
that of other men, we are convinced is stable. Will you 
see with me whether there is any fair mode of escaping 
from them? I should be very glad if I could do so.” 

“ What are they ?” 

“ Why, first, I am afraid it must be said, that we 
must entirely justify a man in the condition of the 
Eastern prince mentioned by Hume, who could not be 
induced to believe that there was such a thing as ice. 
I am afraid that he was quite in the right; and yet we 
know that in fact he was wrong.” 

“You are not, then, satisfied with Hume’s own 
solution ?” 

“ So far from it, that I cannot see, upon the principles 
on which we refuse to believe miracles, that it is even 
intelligible. We agree, do we not, that, from the expe- 
rience we have (and, so far as we can ascertain, from 
every body else’s) of the uniform course of events, of 
the established order of sequences, we are to reject any 
assertion of a violation of those sequences; as, for ex- 
ample, of a man’s coming into the world in any preter- 
natural manner, or, when he has once gone out of it, 
coming into it again; and that-we are entitled to do this 
without any examination of the witnesses to any such 
fact, merely on the strength of the principles aforesaid ? ” 

“T admit that we have agreed to this.” 

“ Now was not the assertion that in a certain quarter 
of the world water became solid as stone, could be cut 
into pieces, and be put into one’s pockets, contrary, in a 
similar manner, to all the phenomena which the said 
prince had witnessed, and also to the uniform experience 
of all about him from his earliest years?” 

“ Tt certainly was.” 


268 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“ He was right, then, in rejecting the fact; that is, he 
was right in rejecting the possibility of such an occur 
rence,” said Harrington. 

“ But did we not ourselves say, with Hume, that, as 
we see that there is not an absolute uniformity in the 
phenomena of nature, but that they are varied within 
certain limits in different climates and countries, so it 
does not become us to say that a phenomenon, though 
somewhat variable, is a violation of the usual order of 
sequences ?” 

“ We did; but we also agreed, I think, that those 
variations were to be within invariable limits, as tested 
by the whole of our experience; we did not include 
within those variations what is diametrically contrary 
(as in the present case) to all our own experience and 
that of every body about us. If it is to extend to such 
variations, what do we say but this, — that the order of 
nature is uniform and invariable, except where — it is 
the reverse? and, as it seems it sometimes is so, see 
what comes of the admission. A man asserts the re- 
ality of a miracle which you reject at once as simply 
impossible, as contrary to your experience and that 
of every one whose experience you can test. It will 
be easy for him to say, and upon Hume’s evasion he 
will say, that it was performed, for aught you know, 
under conditions so totally different from those which 
ordinarily obtain in relation to the same order of events, 
that you are no adequate judge as to whether it was 
possible or not. He acknowledges that a miracle is a 
very rare dccurrence ; that it is performed for special 
ends; is strictly limited to time and place, like those 
phenomena the Indian prince was asked to believe; and 
that your experience cannot embrace it, nor is war- 
ranted in pronouncing upon it. I really fear that, if 
our incredulous prince is to be condemned, our principle 


i 


MIRACLES. 269 


will be ruined. JI am anxious for his safe deliverance, 
I assure you.” - 

“Still 1 cannot see that we can deny that phenom- 
~ ena may be manifested, in virtue of the laws of nature, 
totally different from those which we have ever seen 
or heard of.” 

“ What! so different that the phenomena in question 
shall be a total departure from that order of nature of 
which alone we and all about us are cognizant ; in fact, 
all but the one man, who tells us the strange thing, we 
being at the same time totally incapable of testing his 
experience ?” 

“ Yes,” said Fellowes ; “I must grant it.” 

“T see,” said Harrington, “ you are bent on the de- 
struction of our criterion. Do you not perceive that, if 
our experience and that of the immense majority, or of 
all about us, be not a sufficient criterion of the laws of 
nature, our argument falls to the ground? =‘ Your prin- 
ciple? our adversaries will say, ‘is a fallacious one; 
Nature has her laws, no doubt, which apply to miracles 
as to every other phenomenon; but in assuming your 
experience to be a suflicient criterion of these laws, you 
have been, not interpreting her laws, but imposing upon 
her your own. If unknown powers of nature may thus 
reverse our experience and the experience of all those 
whose experience, under the given conditions, we have 
opportunities of testing, we ought to abstain from say- 
ing that some unknown powrrs may not also have 
wrought miracles. Let us thcn affirm consistently the 
sufficiency of our criterion; and the prince aforesaid 
must do the same; and it warranted him, I say, in be- 
lieving that there neither was nor could be such a thing 
as ice.” 

“ But this seems ridiculous,” said Fellowes; “for 


according to this, different and opposite experiences 
23 * 


270 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


may, in different places, give different or opposite meas- 
ures of the laws of nature; which nevertheless are sup- 
posed to be invariably the same, or invariably within 
the limits certified by that experience.” 

“JT cannot help it; upon that same experience we 
must believe it true that there are no miracles, and our 
unbelieving prince, that there could be no such thing as 
ice; for to Aim it was a miracle. If we do not reason 
thus, may we not be compelled to admit that our uni- 
form experience, with its limited variations, is no rule 
at all, and that there are cases for which it makes no 
provision ? and may not the advocate for miracles say 
that miracles are amongst them? No, let us adhere to 
our principle, and adhering to it, I wish to know whether 
the prince in question was not quite right in saying that 
there neither was nor could be such a thing as ice; for 
the assertion that there was, was contrary to all his ex- 
perience and to that of every soul about him.” 

“T must say, that, if we look only to the principle of 
this uniform experience, he was right.” 

“ But he rejected the truth.” 

‘ He certainly did.” , 

“ And he was right in rejecting the truth?” 

“ Certainly, upon your principle.” 

“Upon my principle! Do not say upon my princi- 
ple, unless you mean to deny that you too embrace it; 
if you give up that principle, you lay yourself open at 
once to the retort that your position is insecure; that 
you have taken your experience as a sufficient criterion 
of the possibilities of events, when it is in fact merely 
a measure of such as have fallen under your own ob- 
servation.” 

“ Perhaps,” said Fellowes, “I should say that the 
prince in question was justified at first in rejecting the 
fact, bu’: that when he found other men, whose veracity 


MIRACLES. AP! 


he could not suspect, coming from the same regions of 
the worl’, and affirming the same phenomenon, it was 
his business to correct his experience, and to admit that 
the fact was so.” 

“Tam surprised to hear you say so; you are again 
ruining our principle. Do you admit that the assertion 
that there was a place on earth at which water in large 
quantities became solid, was apparently as great a vio- 
lation of all the experience of this man, as what is ordi- 
narily called a miracle is of ours ?” 

“I cannot deny that it was so.” 

“ But yet you think, that, though justified in dis- 
believing it at first, he would not be so when others, 
whose veracity and motives he had no reason to sus- 
pect, told him the same tale ?” 

muy ea” 

“ Why, then, is not this plainly to make a belief of 
such events depend upon testimony, and do we not give 
up altogether our sufficient principle of rejection of all 
such testimony? You are yielding, without doubt, the 
principle of our opponents, who afhrm that there is no 
event so improbable that a certain combination of testi- 
mony would not be sufficient to warrant your reception 
of it; because, as they say, that testimony might be 
given under such circumstances, —so variously certi- 
fied, and so above suspicion,— that it would be more 
improbable that the statement to which it applied 
(however strange) should be false, than that the testi- 
mony should not be true; in other words, that the 
falsehood of the testimony would be the greater miracle 
of the two. And they say this, because (as they assert) 
the uniform experience on which we found our objec- 
tion to any miraculous narrative is no Jess applicable 
to the world of mind than to the world of matter; that 
there is not inaeed an absolute uniformity of experience 


272 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


in the former, as neither is there in the latter; but that 
neither in one nor in the other is there any absolute 
bouleversement of the principles and constitution of na- 
ture; which, they say, would be implied, if under ail 
conceivable circumstances testimony might prove false. 
And yet now you seem to admit the very thing for 
which they contend ; and in contending for it, you give 
up your case. Bisire so, you certainly get rid of one 
of the paradoxical P nceene which my wretched scep- 
ticism sometimes suggests to me, as throwing a doubt 
on the integrity of our principle. I say your admission 
gets rid of it; but then it is with the ruin of the prin- 
ciple itself.” 

“ What was that paradox ?” 

“Jt is this; that, if we adhere to our principle, we 
must deny that any amount of testimony is sufficient 
to warrant the belief of a miracle.” 

“That is what we do maintain.” 

“I thought so; but you seem to me to have hastily 
given it up. Let us then again maintain that our 
prince, in denying what was a miracle te him, was not _ 
only consistent in saying that it could not be, when 
first asserted to him, but also when last asserted; and 
died an orthodox infidel in the possibility of ice, or an 
orthodox believer in the eternal fluidity of water, which- 
ever you prefer to consider it.” 

“ Well, and what then?” 

% Why, then, let ws act upon our principle with equal 
consistency in other cases; for you say that there is no 
amount or complexity of evidence which would induce 
you to believe in a miracle.” 

“ T do.” 

“ Let us suppose it was asserted that a man known 
to have been dead and buried had risen again, and, 
after having been seen by many, had at last, in the 


MIRACLES. 273 


presence of a multitude, on a clear day, ascended to 
heaven through the calm sky, without artificial wings 
or balloon, or any such thing; that he was seen to pass 
out of sight of the gazing crowd, who watched and 
watched in vain for his return; and that he had never 
more been seen. Let us suppose that the witnesses 
who saw this constantly affirmed it; that amongst 
them were many known to you, whose veracity you 
had no reason to suspect, and who had no imaginable 
motive to deceive you; let us suppose further, that they 
persisted in affirming this, in spite of all contumely 
and contempt, insult and wrong, amidst threats of 
persecution, and persecution itself; lastly, let there be 
amongst them many, who before this event had been 
as strenuous assertors of the impossibility of a miracle 
as yourself. I want to know whether you would be- 
lieve this story, thus authenticated, or not ?” 

“ But it is, I think, unfair to put any such case; for 
there never was such an event so authenticated.” 

“Tt is quite sufficient to test our principle, that you 
can imagine such testimony. If that principle is sound, 
it is plain that it will apply to all imaginable degrees of 
testimony, as well as to all actual. No testimony, you 
say, can establish a miracle. ‘This is true or not. If 
you admit that there are any degrees in this matter, you 
come at last to the old argument, which you abjure ; 
namely, that whether a miraculous event has taken 
place or not depends on the degree of evidence with 
which it is substantiated, and that must be the result 
of a certain investigation of it in the particular alleged 
case. You remember the story of the ring of Gyges, 
which made the wearer invisible. Plato tells us how a 
man ought to act,and how a good man would act, if he 
had such a ring. Cicero tells us how absurd it would 
be to reply to his reasoning (as one did), by saying that 


274 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


there never was such a ring. It was not necessary to 
the force of the illustration, that there should be such a 
ring. So neither is it necessary to my argument that 
there should be such testimony as I have supposed, to 
enable us to see whether we are prepared to admit the 
truth of your principle that no evidence can establish a 
miracle. Once more, then, I ask you whether, on the 
supposition of such testimony, you would reject the 
supposed fact or not?” 

“ Well, then, I should say, that, since no testimony 
_ can establish a miracle, I should reject it.” 

“ Bravo, Fellowes! I do of all things like to see 
an unflinching regard to a principle, when once laid 
down.” 

“But would not you also reject it, upon the same 
principle ? ” 

“ Of course I should, if the principle be true ; but ah! 
my friend, pardon me for acknowledging my infirmi- 
ties ; my miserable scepticism tosses me to and fro. J] 
have not your strength of will; and I fear that the re- 


jection in such a case would cost me many qualms and ~ 


doubts. Such is the infirmity of our nature, and so 
much may be said on all sides! And I fear that I 
should be more likely to have these uneasy thoughts, 
inasmuch as I fancy I see a difficult dilemma (I but 
now referred to it), which would be proposed to us by 
some keen-sighted opponent, — I say not with jus- 
tice, — who would endeavor to show that we had 
abandoned our principle in the very attempt to main- 
tain it; that the bow from which we were about to 
launch so fatal an arrow-at the enemy had broken in 
our hands, and left us defenceless.” 
“What dilemma do you refer to 2?” said Fellowes, 


“T think such an adversary might perhaps say: 


‘That same uniform experience on which you justify 


a a 


MIRACLES. 275 


the rejection of all miracles, —does it extend only to 
one part of nature, to the physical and material only, or 
to the mental and spiritual also?’ In other words, if 
there were such things as miracles at all, might there be 
miracles in connection with mind as well as in connec- 
tion with matter? What would you say?” 

“ What can I say, but what Hume himself says, so 
truly and so beautifully, in his essay on ‘ Necessary 
Connection, and ‘ On Liberty and Necessity’; namely, 
‘that there is a uniformity in both the moral and phys- 
ical world, and that nature does not transgress certain 
limits in either the one or the other’? You must re- 
member that he says so?” 

“J do,’ said Harrington. “ Now, I am afraid our 
astute adversary would say that such a complication of 
false testimony as we have supposed would itself be a 
flagrant violation of the established series of sequences, 
on which, as applied to the physical world, we justify 
the rejection of all miracles ; that we have got rid of a 
miracle by admitting a miracle; and that our uniform 
experience has broken down with us.” 

“ But again I say, there never was such a case of 
testimony,” urged Fellowes. 

“ T wish this could help us; but it plainly will not; 
because we have concluded that, if there were such tes- 
timony, we must believe it false, and therefore should 
admit that the miracle of its falsehood was, in that case, 
necessary to be believed ; not to say that there has been, 
in the opinion of millions, testimony often given to 
miracles, which, if false, does imply that the laws of hu- 
man nature must have been turned topsy-turvy, — and 
I, for my part, know not how to disprove it. If,in such 
cases, the testimony, the falsity of which would be a 
miracle, is not to be rejected, then we must admit that 
the miracle which it supports is true. I must leave it 


+ 


276 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


there,” said Harrington, with an air of comic resigna- 
tion; “I cannot answer for any thing, except that you 
may reject both miracles alternately, if that will be any 
comfort to you, without being able to disbelieve both 
simultaneously. If you believe the testimony false, you 
must believe the alleged miracle false; but you will 
have then the moral miracle to believe. If you believe 
the testimony true, you will then believe the physical 
miracle true. Perhaps the best way will be to disbe- 
lieve both alternately in rapid succession; and you will 
then hardly perceive the difficulty at all!” 

There was here a brief pause. Harrington suddenly 
resumed. “'T'hese are very perplexing considerations. 
One thing, I confess, has often puzzled me much; and 
that is, — what should we do, in what state of mind 
should we be, if we did see a miracle 2?” 

“ Of what use is the discussion of such a particular 
case, when you know it is impossible that we should 
ever see it realized ?” replied Fellowes. 

“Of course it is; just as it is impossible that we 
should ever see levers perfectly inflexible, or cords per- 
fectly flexible. Nevertheless, it is perfectly possible to 
entertain such a hypothetical case, and to reason with 
great conclusiveness on the consequences of such a sup- 
position ; and in the same way we can imagine that we 
have seen a miracle; and what then?” 

“ Why, if we were to see one, of course seeing is 
believing. We must give up our principle,” said Fel- 
lowes, laughing. 

“Do you think so? I think we should be very 
foolish then. How can we be sure that we have seen 
it? Can it appeal to any thing stronger than our 
senses, and have not our senses often beguiled us?” 
Must we not rather abide by that general induction | 
from the evidence to which our ordinary experience 


MIRACLES. 277 


points us? In other words, ought we not to adhere to 
the great principle we have already laid down, that a 
miracle is impossible ?” 

“ But, according to this, if we err in that principle, 
and God were to work a miracle for the very purpose 
of convincing us, it would be impossible for him to 
attain his purpose.” 

“think it would, my friend, I confess; just for the 
reason that, since we believe a miracle to be impossible, 
we must believe it impossible for even God to work 
one; and therefore, if we are mistaken, and it is possi- 
ble for him to work one, it is still impossible that he 
should convince us of it.” 

“ T really know not how to go that length.” 

“Why not? You acknowledge that your senses 
have deceived you; you know that they have deceived 
others; and it is on that very ground that you dispose 
of very many cases of supposed miracles which you are 
not willing, or are not able, to resolve otherwise. If I 
believe, then, that a miracle is impossible, I must admit 
that, if I err in that, it is still impossible for God him- 
self to convince me of it.” 

Fellowes looked grave, but said nothing. 

“ And do you know,” said Harrington, “ I have some- 
times thought that Hume, so far from representing his 
argument from ‘ Transubstantiation ’ fairly, (there is an 
obvious fallacy on the very face of it, to which I do not 
now allude,) is himself precisely in the condition in 
which he represents the believer in miracles?” 

Fellowes smiled incredulously. “ First, however,” said 
he, “what is the more notorious fallacy to which you 
allude ? 

“Jt is so barefaced an assumption, that I am sur- 
prised that his acuteness did not see it; or that, if he 


saw it, he could have descended to tale a point by 
24 


278 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


appearing not to see it. It has been often pointed out, 
and you will recollect it the moment I name it. You 
know he commences with the well-known argument of 
Tillotson against Transubstantiation, and flatters him- 
self that he sees a similar argument in relation to mir- 
acles. Now it certainly requires but a moderate de- 
gree of sagacity to see that the very point in which 
Tillotson’s argument tells, is that very one in which 
Hume’s is totally unlike it. Tillotson says, that when 
it is pretended that the bread and wine which are sub- 
mitted to his own senses have been ‘transubstantiated 
into flesh and blood,’ the alleged phenomena contradict 
his senses ; and that as the information of his senses as 
much comes from God as the doctrines of Scripture 
(and even the miracles of Scripture appeal to nothing 
stronger), he must believe his senses in this case in 
preference to the assertions of the priest. Hume then 
goes on quietly to take it for granted that the miracles 
to which consent is asked in like manner contradict the 
testimony of the senses of him to whom the appeal is 
made ; whereas, in fact, the assertor of the miracles does 
not pretend that he who denies: them has ever seen 
them, or had the opportunity of seeing them. ‘To make 
the argument analogous, it ought to be shown that the 
objector, having been a spectator of the pretended mir- 
acles, when and where they were affirmed to have been 
wrought, had then and there the testimony of his 
senses that no such events had taken place. It is mere 
juggling with words to say that never to have seen 
a like event is the same argument of an event’s never 
having occurred, as never to have seen that event when 
it was alleged to have taken place under our very 
eyes |”? 

“JT give up the reasoning on this point,” said Fel- 
lowes, “but how, I should like to know, do you retort 
the argument upon him?” 


MIRACLES, 279 


“Thus; you see that we maintain that a miracle is 
incredible per se, because impossible; not to be believed, 
therefore, on any evidence.” 

“ Certainly.” 

“Tf, then, we saw what seemed a miracle, we should 
distrust our senses; we should say that it was most 
likely that they deceived us. Hear what Voltaire says 
in one of his letters to D’ Alembert: ‘ Je persiste & pen- 
ser que cent mille hommes qui ont vu ressusciter un 
mort, pourraient bien étre cent mille hommes qui au- 
raient la berlue’ And what he says of their bad eyes, 
there is no doubt he would say of his own, if he had 
been one of the hundred thousand.” 

“T think so, certainly.” 

“And Strauss, and Hume, and Voltaire, and you 
and I, and all who hold a miracle impossible, would 
distrust our senses, and fall back upon that testimony 
from the general experience of others, which alone could 
correct our own halting and ambiguous experience.” 

“ Certainly.” 

“It appears, then, my good fellow, that the position 
of those who deny and those who assert miracles is 
exactly the reverse of Hume’s statement. The man 
who believes ‘ Transubstantiation’ distrusts his senses, 
and rather believes testimony: and even so would he 
who has fully made up his mind, on our sublime prin- 
ciple, as to the impossibility of miracles, when any 
thing which has that appearance crosses his path; he 
is prepared to deny his senses and to trust to testimony, 
—to that general experience of others which comes to 
him, and can come to him, only in that shape. It is 
we, therefore, and not our adversaries, who are liable to 
be reached by this unlucky illustration.” 

Fellowes himself seemed much amused by finding 
the tables thus turned. For my part, I had difficulty 


280 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


in repressing a chuckle over this display of sceptical 
candor and subtilty. 

“There is perhaps another paradox which may be as 
well mentioned,” resumed Harrington. “It is a little 
trying to my scepticism, but perhaps will not be to 
your faith. I mean this. We are constrained to be- 
lieve from our ‘uniform-experience’ criterion that no 
miracle has ever occurred, or ever will; in short, it is, 
as we say, impossible. Now the principle which un- 
doubtedly leads us to the conclusion we may regard as 
a principle of our nature, if ever there was one; that is, 
we are so constituted as to infer the perpetual uniform- 
ity of certain sequences of phenomena from our obser- 
vation of that uniformity.” 

“Assuredly.” 

“ And as all mankind obviously act upon that same 
principle in most cases, and we believe that it is part 
of the very uniformity in question that human nature 
is radically the same in all ages and in all countries, I 
think we ought to conclude that it is not you and I 
only, but at all events the vast majority of mankind, 
who have maintained the impossibility of miracles.” 

“ We ought to be able to conclude so,” said Fellowes, 
“but it is very far from being the case. So far from it, 
that nothing can be plainer than that miraculous le- 
gends have been most greedily taken up by the vast 
majority of mankind, and have made a very common 
part of almost every form of religion.” 

“Men do not then, it appears, in this instance, at all 
regard the uniform tenor of their experience; so that 
it is a part of our uniform experience, that mankind 
disregard and disbelieve the lessons of their uniform 
experience. This is almost a miracle of itself; at all 
events, a curious paradox; but one which we must not 
stay to examine: though I confess it leads to one other 


MIRAGLES. 281 


humiliating conclusion,—a little corollary, which I 
think it is not unimportant to mark; and that is, that 
we can never expect these enlightened views of ours to 
spread amongst the mass of mankind.” 

“Nay, I cannot agree with you. I hope far other- 
wise, and far better for the human race.” 

“ But will the result not contradict your uniform 
experience, if your hopes be realized? Is not your 
experience sufficiently long and sufficiently varied to 
show that the belief of miracles and all sorts of prodi- 
gies is the normal condition of mankind, and that it is 
only a comparatively few who can discern that uniform 
experience justifies man in believing that no miracle is 
possible? While it teaches us that a miracle is impos- 
sible, does it not also teach us that, though none is pos- 
sible, it is nevertheless impossible that they should not 
be generally believed? Is not this taught us as plainly 
by our uniform experience as any thing else? See how 
fairly Hume admits this at the commencement of his 
Essay on Miracles. He says, ‘I flatter myself that I 
have discovered an argument which, if just, will, with 
the wise and learned, be an everlasting check to all 
kinds of superstitious delusion, and consequently will 
be useful as long as the world endures. or so long, 
I presume, will the accounts of miracles and prodigies be 
found in all history, sacred and profane’? 'Thus are we 
led to the conclusion, that, though miracles never can 
be real, they will nevertheless be always believed; and 
_ that, though the truth is with us, it never can be estab- 
lished in the minds of men in general. And, my dear 
friend, let us be thankful that it never can; for if it 
could, that fact would have proved the possibility of 
miracles by contradicting one of those very deductions 
from uniform experience on the validity of which their 
impossiblity is demonstrated. 

24" 


2QR2 - THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“These are some of the perplexities,’ continued 
Harrington, “which, as Theetetus says, sometimes 
make ‘my head dizzy, when I revolve the subject. 
Meantime, surely a nobler spectacle can hardly present 
itself than our fairly abiding by our principle, amidst 
so many plausible difficulties as assail it. I know no 
one principle in theology or philosophy which has been 
so battered as that of Hume. Not only Campbell, 
Paley, and so many more, confidently affirm errors in 
it, —such as his assuming individual or general expe- 
rience to be universal; his quietly attributing to indi- 
vidual experience a belief of facts which are believed 
by the vast mass of mankind on testimony, and nothing 
else; his representing the experience of a man who 
says he has seen a certain event as ‘contrary’ to the 
experience of him who says he has not seen a similar 
one; his implying that no amount of testimony can 
establish a miracle, which might compel us to believe 
moral miracles to get rid of physical miracles; I say 
not only so, but the most recent investigators of the 
theory of evidence cruelly abandon him. The argu- 
ment of Hume and Paley, says De Morgan, in his trea- 
tise on Probabilities,* is a ‘fallacy answered by falla- 
cies,’ — meaning by this last that Paley had conceded 
to his opponent more than he ought to have done. 
With similar vexatious opposition, Mr. J. S. Mill says, 
that, to make any alleged fact contradictory to a law of 
causation, ‘the allegation must be that this happened 
in the absence of any adequate counteracting cause. 
Now, in the case of an alleged miracle, the assertion is 
the exact opposite of this” He says, ‘that all which 
Hume has made out is, that no evidence can prove a 
miracle to any one who did not previously believe the 


* Encyclopedia Metropolitana: Theory of Probabilities, § 182. 


ON A BOOK-REVELATION. 283 


existence of a being or beings with supernatural power ; 
or who believed himself to have full proof that the char- 
acter’* of such being or beings is inconsistent with 
such an interference; that is, the argument could have 
no force unless either a man believed there were no God 
at all, or the objector happened to be something like a 
God himself! And now, lastly, I have shown that the 
predicament of Hume, and Voltaire, and Strauss, and 
you and myself (if consistent), is just the reverse of that 
in Which the argument from Transubstantiation repre- 
sents it. But never mind; so much more glory is due 
to us for abiding by our principle. I begin almost to 
think that I am arriving at that transcendental ‘ faith’ 
which you admire so much, and which is totally inde- 
pendent of logic and argument, and all ‘intellectual 
processes whatever,’ ” 


July 23. I this day read to Mr. Fellowes the paper 
I had promised a week or two before, and which I had 
entitled, 


An Externat REVELATION, EVEN OF ELEMENTARY 
“ SpiriruaL aND Morau Trutu,” very Possisie, 
AND VERY UsEFUL; AND IN ANALOGY WITH THE 
Conpitions oF Human DEVELOPMENT, WHETHER IN 
THE INDIVIDUAL OR THE SPECIES. 


It is necessary to observe in the outset, that, even if 
I were to grant your proposition, “that a revelation of 
moral and spiritual truth is impossible,” — understand- 
ing by such “truth” what you seem to mean, the truth 
which “ Natural Religion,” as it is called, has recog- 
nized in some shape or other (for it has varied not a 


* System of Logic, Vol. II. pp. 186, 187. 


284 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


little), — it would leave the chief reasons for imparting 
an external revelation just where they were. I, at least, 
should never contend that the sole or even chief object 
of an external revelation is to impart elementary moral 
or spiritual truth, however possible I may deem it. On 
the contrary, Iam fully persuaded that the great pur- 
pose for which such a revelation has beén given is to 
communicate facts and truths many of which were 
quite transcendental to the human faculties; which 
man would never have discovered, and most of which 
he would never have surmised. All this your favor- 
ite Mr. Newman perceived in his earlier days clearly 
enough, and has recorded his sentiments held at that 
period in his “ Phases.”* If I were to grant you, 
therefore, your proposition, it would leave the question 
of an external revelation untouched; your hasty in- 
ference from it, that every book-revelation is to be re- 
jected, is perfectly gratuitous. 

But I am thoroughly persuaded that the notion of 
the impossibility of an external revelation of moral and 
spiritual truth, even of the elementary form already 
referred to, is a fallacy. 

Whether the religious faculty in men be a simple 
faculty, or (as Sir James Mackintosh seemed to think 
might possibly be the case with conscience) a complex 
one, constituted by, means of several different powers 
and principles of our nature, is a question not essential 
to the argument; for I frankly admit at once, with Mr. 
Newman and Mr. Parker, that there is such a suscep- 
tibility (simple or complex), and not a mere abortive 
tendency, as Harrington seems to suppose possible. 
Otherwise I cannot, 1 confess, account for the fact (so 
largely insisted upon by Mr. Parker) of the very gen- 


a 


PE? 483 


ON A BOOK-REVELATION. 285 


eral, the all but universal, adoption by man of some 
religion, and the power, the prodigious power, which, 
even when false, hideously false, it exerts over him. 
But then I must as frankly confess, that I can as little 
account for all the (not only terrible but) uniform ab- 
errations of this susceptibility, on which Harrington 
has insisted, and which, I do think, prove (if ever truth 
was proved by induction) one of two things; either 
that, as he says, this susceptibility in man was origi- 
nally defective and rudimentary, or that man is no 
longer in his normal state; in other words, that he is, 
as the Scriptures declare, depraved. I acknowledge I 
accept this last solution; and firmly believe, with Pas- 
cal, that without it moral and religious philosophy must 
toil over the problem of humanity in vain. 

If this be so, we have, of course, no difficulty in 
believing that there may be, in spite of the existence 
of the religious faculty in man, ample scope for an ex- 
ternal revelation, to correct its aberrations and remedy 
its maladies. 

But you will say that this fact is not to be taken for 
granted. I admit it; and therefore lay no further 
stress upon it. Igo one step further; and shall en- 
deavor, at least, to prove, that, supposing man is just 
as he was created, yet also supposing, what neither Mr. 
Parker nor Mr. Newman will deny, (and if they did, 
the whole history of the world would confute them,) 
that man’s religious faculty is not uniform or determi- 
nate in its action, but is dependent on external develop- 
ment and culture for assuming the form it does, ample 
scope is still left for an external revelation. I contend 
that the entire condition of this susceptibility (as shown 
-by experience) proves that, if in truth an external reve- 
lation be impossible, it is not because it has superseded 
the necessity for one; and that the declaration of the 


286 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


elder deists and modern “ spiritualists ” on this subject, 
in the face of what all history proves man to be, is the 
most preposterous in the world. 

Further; I contend that all the analogies derived 
from the fundamental laws of the development of man’s 
nature, — from a consideration of the relations in which 
that nature stands to the external world,— from the 
absolute dependence of the individual on external cul- 
ture, and that of the whole species on its historic devel- 
opment, —are all in favor of the notion both of the 
possibility and utility of an external revelation, and 
even in favor of that particular form of it which Mr. 
Newman and you so contemptuously call a “ book” 
revelation. 

I. I argue from all the analogies of the fundamental 
laws of the development of the human mind. Nor do 
I fear to apply the reasoning even to the cases in which 
it has been so confidently asserted that there can be no 
revelation, on the fallacious ground that a revelation 
“of spiritual and moral truth” presupposes in man 
certain principles to which it appeals. ‘To possess cer- 
tain faculties for the appreciation of spiritual and moral 
truth is one thing; to acquire the conscious possession 
of that truth is another; the former fact’ would not 
make an external revelation superfluous, or an empty 
name. Every thing in the process of the mind’s de- 
velopment goes to show, that, whatever its capacities, 
tendencies, faculties, “ potentialities,” (call them what 
you will,) a certain external influence is necessary to 
awaken its dormant life; to turn a “ potentiality ” into 
an “energy”; to transform a dim inkling of a truth 
into an intelligent, vital, conscious recognition of it. 
Nor is this law confined to mind alone; all nature 
attests its presence. All effects are the result of prop- 
erties or susceptibilities in one thing, solicited by ex- 


ON A BOOK-REVELATION. 287 


ternal contact with those of others. The fire no doubt 
may smoulder in the dull and languid embers; it is 
when the external breeze sweeps over them, that they 
begin to sparkle and glow, and vindicate the vital ele- 
ment they contain. The diamond in the mine has the 
same internal properties in the darkness as in the light; 
it is not till the sun shines upon it, that it flashes on 
the eye its splendor. Look at a flower of any par- 
ticular species; we see that, as it is developed in con- 
nection with a variety of external influences, —as it 
comes successively under the action of the sun, rain, 
dew, soil, — it expands in a particular manner, and in 
that only. It exhibits a certain configuration. of parts, 
a certain form of leaf, a certain color, fragrance, and no 
other. We do not doubt, on the one hand, that with- 
out the “skyey influences” these things would never 
have been; nor, on the other, that the flower assumes 
this form of development, and this alone, in virtue of 
its internal structure and organization. But both sets 
of conditions must conspire in the result. 

It is much the same with the mind. That it pos- 
sesses certain tendencies and faculties, which, as it 
develops itself, will terminate in certain ideas and sen- 
timents, is admitted; but apart from certain external 
conditions of development, those sentiments and ideas 
will, in effect, never be formed,— the mind will be in 
perpetual slumber. Thus, in point of fact, this contro- 
versy is connected ultimately with that ancient dispute 
as to the origin, sources, and genesis of human knowl- 
edge and sentiments. I shall simply take for granted 
that you are (as most philosophers are) an advocate of 
innate capacities, but not of “innate ideas ” ; of “ innate 
susceptibilities,” but not of “innate sentiments”; that 
is, I presume you do not contend that the mind pos- 
sesses more than the faculties-—the Jaws of thought 


288 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


and feeling — which, under. conditions of external de- 
velopment, actually give birth to thoughts and feelings. 
These faculties and susceptibilities are, no doubt, con- 
genital with the mind, — or, rather, are the mind itself. 
But its actually manifested phenomena wait the touch 
of the external; and they will be modified accordingly. 
It is absolutely dependent on experience in this sense, 
that it is only as it is operated upon by the outward 
world that the dormant faculties, whatever they are, and 
whatever their nature, be they few or many, — intellect- 
ual, moral, or spiritual, — are first awakened. If a mind 
were created (it is, at least, a conceivable case) with all 
the avenues to the external world closed, — in fact, we 
sometimes see approximations to such a condition in 
certain unhappy individuals, — we do not doubt that 
such a mind, by the present laws of the human consti- 
tution, could not possess any thoughts, feelings, emo- 
tions; in fact, could exhibit none of the phenomena, 
spiritual, intellectual, moral, or sensational, which now 
diversify it. In proportion as we see human beings 
approach this condition, — in fact, we sometimes, see 
them approach it very nearly, — we see the “ potentiali- 
ties” of the soul (I do not like the word, but it ex- 
presses my meaning better than any other I know) 
held in abeyance, and such an imperfectly awakened 
man does not, in some cases, manifest the degree of 
sensibility or intelligence manifested in many animals. 
If the seclusion from sense and experience be quite 
complete, the life of such a soul would be wrapped up 
in the germ, and possess no more consciousness than a 
vegetable. 

It appears, then, that universally, however true it may 
be, and doubtless is, that the laws of thought and feel- 
ing enable us to derive from external influence what it 
alone would never give, yet that influence ts an indis- 


~ 


ON A BOOK-REVELATION. 289 


pensable condition, as we are at present constituted, of 
the development of any and of all our faculties. 

As this seems the law of development universally, it 
is so of the spiritual and 1eligious part of our nature as 
well as the rest; and in this very fact we have abun- 
dant scope for the possibility and utility of a revela- 
tion, —if God be pleased to give one, —even of ele- 
mentary moral and spiritual truth; since, though con- 
ceding the perfect congruity between that truth and 
the structure of the soul, it is only as it is in some way 
actually presented to it from without, that it arrives at 
the conscious possession of it. And what, after all, but 
such an external source of revelation is that Volume of 
Nature, which, operating in perfect analogy with the 
aforesaid conditions of the soul’s development, awakens, 
though imperfectly, the dormant elements of religious 
and spiritual life? So far from its being true in any 
intelligible sense that an external revelation of moral 
and spiritual truth is impossible, it is absolutely neces- 
sary, in some form, as a condition of its evolution; so 
far from its being true that such revelation is an ab- 
surdity, it is in strict analogy with the fundamental laws 
of our being. Whether, if this be so, the express ex- 
ternal presentation of such truth in a book constructed 
by divine wisdom and expressed in human language, — 
this last being the most universal and most appropriate 
instrument by which man’s dormant powers are actually 
awakened,— may not be a more effective method of 
attaining the end than any of man’s devising, whether 
instinctive or artificial; or than the casual influences of 
external nature, well or ill deciphered ; — all this is an- 
other question. But some such external apparatus — 
applied to the faculties of men— is essential, whether 
it be in the Volume of Nature, or in the “ Bible” or in 


a book of. Mr. Newman or Mr Parker. All that makes 
25 


290 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


the difference between you and a Hottentot (to recur 
to that illustration which Harrington, I really think, 
fairly employed) depends on external influences, and 
the consequent development of the spiritual and re- 
ligious faculties. 

And this very fact — the unspeakable differences be- 
tween man and sman, nation and nation, as regards the 
recognition, the conscious possession, of even elementary 
“moral and spiritual truth” (varying, as it perpetually 
does, as those external influences vary, and more or less 
perfect, according as that external “ revelation,” which, 
in some degree, and of some species, 1s indispensable, is 
more or less perfect)— affords another indication of the 
ample utility of an external divine revelation, as well as 
of its possibility ; and a proof that, if there be one, it 1s 
in harmony, again, with the conditions of human na- 
ture. And here I may employ, in further illustration, 
one of the analogies I adverted to a little time ago. 
Not only is the flower never independent of external in- 
fluences for its actual development, — not only would it 
remain in the germ without them,— but we see that 
within certain limits, often very wide, the kind of ex- 
ternal influence operates powerfully on the species, and 
on the individual itself; — according as it is in one 
climate or another, —in this soil or that, — submitted 
to culture or suffered to grow wild. It is needless to 
apply the analogy. While we see that the moral and 
spiritual faculties of man no more than his other facul- 
ties can attain their development except in coopera- 
tion with some external influences, we also see that they 
exhibit every degree and variety of development accord- 
ing to the quality of those external influences. Is there 
then not even a possibility left for an external revela- 
tion? If the actual exhibition of any spiritual and 
religious phenomena in man not only depends on some 


ON A BOOK-REVELATION. 291 


external influences and culture, but perpetually varies 
with them, what would such a revelation be but a pro- 
vision in analogy with these facts? But it is sufficient 
to rebut this gratuitous dictum, of an external revela- 
tion of “spiritual and moral truth being impossible,” 
that some external influence is necesssary for any de- 
velopment of the religious faculty at all. If the last be 
necessary, I cannot conceive how the other should be 
impossible. 

Nor is it any reply to say, —as I think has been 
abundantly shown in your debates with Harrington, — 
that any such external influences only make articulate 
that which already existed inarticulately in the heart; 
that they only chafe and stimulate into life “the ivory 
of Pygmalion’s statue,” to use his expression, — the dor- 
mant principles and sentiments which somehow existed, 
but were in deep slumber. That which makes them 
vital, active, the objects of consciousness and the sour- 
ces of power, may well be called a “revelation.” Nay, 
since it seems that, in some way, this outward voice 
must be heard first, I think it is more properly so called 
than the internal response of the heart. That is rather 
the echo. | 

It may be admitted that the elementary truths of re- 
ligion, once propounded, are promptly admitted, but 
still in some external shape they require to be pro- 
pounded. There is such a thing in the human mind 
as unrealized truth, both intellectual and spiritual; the 
‘inarticulate muttering of an obscurely felt sentiment; a 
vague appetency for something we are not distinctly 
conscious of. The clear utterance of it, its distinct 
proposition to us, is the very thing that is often wanted 
to convert this dim feeling into distinct vision. This is 
the electric spark which transforms two invisible gases 
into a visible and transparent fluid; this is the influence 


292 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


which evolves the latent caloric, and makes it a power!- 
ful and active element. 

I cannot help thinking that the great source of your 
fallacy on this subject arises from confounding the idea 
of certain characteristic tendencies and potentialities of 
our nature with the supposition, — contradicted by the 
whole religious history of man in all ages,— that they 
must be everywhere efficaciously active, and spontane- 
ously exhibit a moral manifestation; than which there 
cannot, I conceive, be a greater error. 

I must entreat you to recollect Harrington’s dilemma. 
Hither the supposed truths of your spiritual theory, or 
that of Mr. Newman or Mr. Parker, are known to all 
mankind, or not; if they are, surely their books, and 
every such book is the most impertinent in the world ; 
if not, these authors did well to write, supposing them 
to have truth on their side; but then that vindicates 
the possibility and utility of a “ book-revelation.” 

Il. But I go a step further, and not only contend 
that, from the very law of the soul’s development, there 
is ample scope for a revelation, even of elementary 
“moral and spiritual truth,’ but that even if we sup- 
posed all men in actual possession of that truth, in some 
shape or other, there would still be abundant scope for 
a divinely constructed external instrument for giving 
it efficacy; and that this, again, is in perfect analogy 
with the fundamental condition of the soul’s action. 
The principles of spiritual and religious life are capa- 
ble, in an infinite variety of ways, of being modified, 
intensified, vivified, by the external influences brought 
to bear upon them from time to time. Not only must . 
that external influence be exerted for the first awaken- 
ing of the soul, but it must be continued all our life 
long, in order to maintain the principles thus elicited 
in a state of activity. Sometimes they seem for a while 


ON A BOOK-REVELATION. 293 


to have been half obliterated, — to fade away from the 
consciousness ; they are reillumined, made to blaze out 
again in brilliant light on the “walls of the chambers 
of imagery,” by some outward stimulus; by a “ word 
spoken in season”; by the recollection of some weighty 
apothegm which embodies truth,— some ennobling 
image which illustrates it; by the utterance of certain 
“charmed words,” hallowed by association as they fall 
on the external sense, or are recalled by memory. How 
familiar to us all is this dependence on the external! 
How dull, how sluggish, has often been the soul! A 
single word, the sight of an object surrounded with 
vivid associations, the sudden suggestion of a half- 
forgotten strain of poetry or song,— what power have 
these to stir its stagnant depths, and awaken “ spiritual” 
and every other species of emotion, as well as intel- 
lectual activity! The lightning does not more sud- 
denly cleave the cloud in which it slumbered, the sleep- 
_ Ing ocean is not more suddenly ruffled by the descend- 
ing tempest, than the soul of man is thus capable of 
being vivified and animated by the presentation of ap- 
propriate objects, — nay, often by even the most casual 
external impulse. If this be so, is it not possible that 
an external instrument for thus stimulating and vivify- 
ing spiritual life might be given us by God; which, if 
not, in literal strictness, a “revelation,” would virtually 
have all the effect of one, as rekindling the dying 
light, reillumining the fading characters, of spiritual 
truth ? ig 
Nor, surely, is there much presumption in supposing 
that the appropriate influences of such an instrumen- 
tality may be brought to bear upon us with infinite ad- 
vantage by Him who alone possesses perfect access to 
all the avenues of our spirits; a perfect mastery of our 


whole nature ; of intellect, imagination, and conscience , 
25 * 


294 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITE. 


of those laws of association and emotion which He 
himself has framed. If Shakspeare and Milton can 
daily exercise over myriads of minds an ascendency 
which makes their admirers speak of them almost with 
the “ Bibliolatry ” with which Mr. Newman makes the 
Christian speak of the Bible, I apprehend God could 
construct a “book,” even though it told man nothing 
which was strictly a revelation, which might be of in- 
finite value to him; simply from the fact that the modes 
in which truths operate upon us, and by which our 
faculties are educated to their perfection, are scarcely 
less important than either the truths or the faculties 
themselves. 

But I need say the less upon this point, inasmuch as 
Mr. Newman has spoken of the New Testament, and 
its influence over his mental history, in terms which 
conclusively show that, if it be not a “revelation,” am- 
ple space is left for such a divinely constructed book, 
if God were pleased to give one. 

“ There is no book in all the world,’ says he, “ which 
I love and esteem so much as the New Testament, with 
the devotional parts of the Old. There is none which I 
know so intimately, the very words of which dwell close 
to me in my most sacred thoughts, none for which I so 
thank God, none on which my soul and heart have been 
to so great an extent moulded. in my early boyhood, it 
was my private delight and daily companion; and to it 
I owe the best part of whatever wisdom there is in my 
manhood.” * 

I only doubt whether even this testimony, strong as 
it is, fully represents the power which the Boox has 
had in modifying his interior life, though he would now 
fain renounce its proper authority ; whether it has not 


* Soul, pp. 241, 242. 


ON A BOOK-REVELATION. 295 


had more to do then he thinks in originating his con- 
ception of such “ moral and spiritual” truth as he still 
recognizes. Its very language comes so spontaneously 
to his lips, that his dialect of “spiritualism” is one 
continued plagiarism from David and Isaiah, Paul and 
Christ. Nay, it may well be doubted whether the en- 
tire substance of his spiritual theory be any thing else 
than a distorted and mutilated Christianity. 

Some of the previous observations apply to the possi- 
oility and utility of a divinely originated statement of 
“ ethical truth”; nor will they be neutralized by an ob- 
jection which Mr. Newman is fond of urging, — namely, 
that a book cannot express (as it is freely acknowledged 
no book can) the limitations with which maxims of 
ethical truth are to be received and applied; that all it 
can do is to give general principles, and leave them to 
be applied by the individual reason and conscience. 
Such reasoning is refuted by fact. The same thing 
precisely is done, and necessarily done, in every depart- 
ment in which men attempt to convey instruction in 
any particular art or method. Jt is thus with the gen- 
eral principles of mechanics, of law, of medicine. Yet 
men never entertain a notion that the collection and 
inculcation of such maxims are of no use, or of little, 
merely because they must be intelligently modified and 
not blindly applied in action. If indeed there were 
any force in the objection, it would put an end to all 
instruction, — that of Mr. Newman’s “ spiritual faculty ” 
amongst the rest, for that too can only prompt us by 
general impulses, and leaves us in the same ignorance 
and perplexity how far we are to obey them. ‘That is 
still to be otherwise determined. The genuine result 
of such reasoning, if it were acted upon, would be that 
we need never, in any seience or art whatever, trouble 
ourselves to enunciate any general principle or maxim, 


e 


296 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


because perfectly useless! | Similarly, we need never 
inculcate on children the duty of obeying their parents, 
honoring their superiors, of being frugal or diligent, 
humble or aspiring, the particular circumstances and 
limitations in which they are to be applied being inde- 
terminate! But is not the experience of every day and 
of all the world against it? Is not the early and sedu- 
lous inculcation of just maxims of duty felt to be a great 
auxiliary to its performance in the circumstances in 
which it is necessary to apply them ? Is not the pos- 
session of a general rule, with the advantages of a clear 
and concise expression, — in the form of familiar prov- 
erbs, or embodied in powerful imagery, — a potent sug- 
gestive to the mind; not only whispering of duty, but, 
by perpetual recurrence, aiding the habit of attending to 
it? Is not the early and earnest iteration of such sen- 
tentious wisdom in the ears of the young, — the honor 
which has been paid to sages who have elicited it, or 
felicitously expressed it, —the care with which these 
treasures of moral wisdom have been garnered up, — 
the perpetual efforts to conjoin elementary moral truth 
with the fancy and association, — is not all this a stand- 
ing testimony to a consciousness of the value of such 
auxiliaries of virtue and duty? Is it not felt, that, how- 
ever general such truths may be, the very forms of ex- 
pression, — the portable shape in which the truth 1s pre- 
sented, — have an immense value in relation to prac- 
tice? Admitting, therefore, as before, — but, as before, 
only conceding it for argument’s sake (for the limits 
of variation, even as regards the elementary truths 
of morals, are, as experience shows, very wide), — that 
each man in some shape could anticipate for himself 
the more important ethical truth, there would be yet 
ample scope left for the utility of a divinely constructed 
instrument for its exhibition and enforcement, in per- 


ON A BO,)K-REVELATION. - 297 


fect harmony with the modes in which it is actually ex- 
hibited and enforced by man, in close analogy with the 
form in which he attempts the same task, whenever he 
teaches any practical art or method whatever. 

Only may it not be again presumed here, that He 
who knows perfectly “ what is in man” would be able 
to perform the work with correspondent perfection ? 
Whether He has performed it in the Bible or not, that 
book does, at all events, contain not merely a larger 
portion of pure ethical truth than any other in the 
world, but ethical truth expressed and exhibited (as 
Mr. Newman himself, and most other persons, would 
admit) in modes incomparably better adapted than in 
any other book to lay hold of the memory, the imagi- 
nation, the conscience, and the heart. 

Even then, if we conceded that elementary “ spiritual 
and moral truth” is not only congruous to man’s facul- 
ties, but in some shape universally recognized and pos- 
sessed, it might yet be contended, from the manner in 
which such truth is dependent for its power and vitality 
on the forms in which it comes in contact with the hu- 
man spirit and stimulates it, that ample space is left 
for such a divine instrument as the Bible; and that it 
would be in perfect conformity with the laws of our 
nature, —in analogy with the known modes in which 
external aids give efficacy to such truth. At the same 
time, be pleased once more to remember, that I con- 
cede so much only for argument’s sake ; I contend that 
in the stricter sense, without some external aid, — and 
the Bible may be at least as effectual, — the religious 
faculty will not expand at all; and that, even where 
there are these indispensable external influences, the 
recognition of the truth is obscure or bright, as those 
influences vary in their degrees of appropriateness. 
Where they are rude and imperfect, (as amongst bar- 


298 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


barous nations,) we have the spectacle of a soul which 
struggles towards the light, like a plant to which but a 
small portion of the sun’s rays is admitted; it depends 
on the free admission of that light whether or not it 
shall arrive at its full development, — its beauty, its 
fragrance, and its color. The most that merely human 
culture can promise, even under the most favorable 
circumstances, (witness ancient Greece!) is that men, 
in some few favored instances, may possibly attain 
those truths which it may be admitted are congenial to 
the soul, and easily recognized when once propounded, 
but which, in fact, few men, by nature’s sole teaching, 
ever do clearly attain. It is infinitely important that 
the path, dimly explored by sages alone, should be 
thrown open to mankind. Is it not even possible, then, 
that this task should be performed by a book like the 
Bible? and if such a book were given, would it not be, 
Lonce more ask, in analogy with the fundamental laws 
of the soul’s development, — its uniform dependence on 
external influences for any result, and the variable na- 
inure of that result, as the influence itself is more or less 
appropriate? ‘T'o affirm that each man at once, by in- 
ternal illumination alone, attains a clear recognition of 
even elementary “ moral and spiritual truth” is to ig- 
nore the laws according to which the soul’s activity is 
developed, and to contradict universal experience, which 
tells us that the great majority of mankind are but in 
partial possession of this “spiritual and moral truth,” 
and hold it for the most part in connection with the 
most prodigious and pernicious errors. 

You will perceive that I have here chosen to argue 
the question of the possibility and utility of a “revela- 
tion” on your own grounds; but recollect what I have 
said, that, in fact, the principal reasons for a revelation 
would still remain in force, even if all you demand 


ON A BOOK-REVELATION. 299 


were conceded. It is a point which I do not find that 
Mr. Newman’s dictum affects. 

There may obviously be other facts and other truths 
as intimately connected with man’s destinies and hap- 
piness as the elementary truths of religious and moral 
science; facts and truths which may be necessary to 
give efficacy to mere elementary principles, and to sup- 
ply motives to the performance of moral precepts. And 
how ample in this respect are man’s necessities, and 
how large the field for a “divine revelation,” if we con- 
tent ourselves with such a meagre theology as that of 
Mr. Parker and Mr. Newman, you see plainly enough 
in the questions asked by Harrington! How many of 
Mr. Newman’s and Mr. Parker’s assumptions — the 
moment they step beyond such “spiritual and moral 
truth” as is “elementary ” indeed — does Harrington 
declare that he finds unverified by his own conscious- 
ness, and needing, if true, an authority to confirm them 
far more weighty than theirs! As to the terms of ac- 
cess to the Supreme Being, — his aspects towards man, 
—man’s duties towards him,—the future destinies, 
even the future existence, of the soul (a point on which 
these writers are themselves divided), — the boasted 
“progress” of the race, which they “ prophesy,” indeed, 
but without any credentials of their mission, — you see 
how on all these points Harrington maintains — and oh! 
how many, if the Bible be untrue, must maintain with 
him — that he is in total darkness! 

III. But I must proceed to show yet further, if you 
will have patience with me, that, supposing a divine 
external revelation to be given, it is in striking analogy, 
not only with the primary laws of development of our 
whole intellectual and spiritual being, but with the fact 
— undeniable, however unaccountable — that our sub- 
jection to external influences does, in truth, not only 


300 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


mould and modify, but usually determine, our inte. 
lectual and religious position. We see not only that 
some external influence is necessary to awaken any 
activity at all, but that it is actually so powerful and so 
inevitable from the manner in which man enters the 
world, and is brought up in it, — his long years of de- 
pendence, absolute dependence, on the education which 
is given him (and what an education it has ever been 
for the mass of the race !), — that it makes all the differ- 
ence, intellectually and morally, between a New Zea- 
land savage and an Englishman, — between the gross- 
est idolater and the most enlightened Christian. This 
fact affects alike our intellectual and spiritual condi- 
tion. The savage can use his senses better than the 
civilized; but the interval is trifling compared with 
that between the intellectual condition of a man who 
can appreciate Milton and Newman, and that of our 
Teutonic ancestors. In the sentiments of a spiritual 
nature there is the same wide gulf — or rather wider — 
between a Hottentot and a Paul. Yet the same “ sus- 
ceptibilities ” and “ potentialities” are in each human 
mind. ‘The same remark applies to the sense of the 
beautiful and sublime ; the characteristic faculties are in 
all mankind; it is education which elicits them. Nay, 
would you not stare at a man who should affirm that 
education was not itself a species of “ revelation,” 
simply because the truths thus communicated were all 
«“ potentially” in the mind before? The fact is, that 
education is of coérdinate importance with the very 
faculties without which it cannot be imparted. 

Now we cannot break away from that law of de- 
velopment with which our individual existence is in- 
volved, and which necessarily (as far as any will of 
ours is concerned) is a most important, nay, the most 
important, element in that dertiwm quid which man 


ON A BOOK-REVELATION. 301 


becomes in virtue of the threefold elements which con- 
stitute him ; — 1st, a given internal constitution of mind; 
2d, the modifying effects of the actual exercise of his 
faculties and their interaction with one another, result- 
ing in habits ; and, 3d, that external world of influences 
which supplies the matériel from which this strange 
plant extracts its aliment, and ultimately derives its fair 
fruits or its poisonous berries. All this is inevitable, 
upon the supposition that man was to bea social, not a 
solitary being, — linked by an indissoluble chain to those 
who came before and to those who come after him, — 
dependent, absolutely dependent, upon others for his 
being, his training, his whole condition, civil, social, 
intellectual, moral, and religious. If, then, an external 
instrument of moral and religious culture were given 
by God to man, would it not bein strict analogy with 
this tremendous and mysterious law of human develop- 
ment? 

IV. I must be permitted to proceed yet one step 
further, and affirm that the very form in which this 
presumed revelation has (as we say) been given — 
that of a Book —is also in strict analogy with the 
law by which God himself has made this an indispen- 
sable instrament of all human progress. We have 
just seen that man is what he is, as much (to say the 
least) by the influence of external influence as by the 
influence of the internal principles of his constitution ; 
it must be added, that to make that external influence 
of much efficiency at all, still more to render it either 
universally or progressively beneficial, the world waits 
for a— Boox. Among the varied external influences 
amidst which the human race is developed, this is in- 
comparably the most important, and the only one 
that is absolutely essential. Upon it the colective 


education of the race depends. It is the sole 
26 


302 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


instrument of registering, perpetuating, transmitting 
thought. . 

Yes, whatever trivial ‘and vulgar associations may 
impair our due conceptions of the grandeur of this ma- 
terial and artificial organon of man’s development, as 
compared with the intellectual and moral energies, 
which have recourse to it, but which are almost im- 
potent without it, God has made man’s whole career 
of triumphs dependent upon this same art of writing! 
The whole progress of the world he has created, he has 
made dependent upon the Alphabet! Without this the 
progress of the individual is inconceivably slow, and 
with him, for the most part, progress terminates. By 
this alone can we garner the fruits of experience, — be- 
come wise by the wisdom of others, and strong by their 
strength. Without this man everywhere remains, age 
after age, immovably a savage; and, if he were to lose 
it when he has once gained it, would, after a little 
ineffectual flutter by the aid of tradition, sink into 
barbarism again. ‘Till this cardinal want is supplied, 
all considerable “ progress” is impossible. It may look 
odd to say that the whole world is dependent on any 
thing so purely artificial; but, in point of fact, it is 
only another way of stating the truth, that God has 
constituted the race a series of mutually dependent 
beings ; and as each term of this series is perishable and 
evanescent, the development and improvement of the 
race must depend on an instrument by which an inter- 
connection can be maintained between its parts; till. 
then, progress must not only be most precarious, but vir- 
tually impossible. ‘To the truth of this all history testi- 
fies. I say, then, not only that, if God has given mana | 
revelation at all, he has but acted in analogy with that 
law by which he has made man so absolutely dependent 
upon external culture, but thatif he has given it in the 


ON A BOOK-REVELATION. 303 


very shape of a book, he has acted also in strict analogy 
with the very form in which he has imposed that law 
on the world. He has simply made use of that instru- 
ment, which, by the very constitution of our nature and 
of the world, he has made absolutely essential to the 
progress and advancement of humanity. May we not 
conclude from analogy, that if God has indeed thus 
constituted the world, and if he busies himself at all 
in the fortunes of miserable humanity, he has not dis- 
dained to take part in its education, by condescendingly 
using that very instrument which himself has made the 
condition of all human progress? I think, even if you 
hesitate to admit that God has given us a “ book-reve- 
lation,” you must admit it would be at least in mani- 
fest coincidence with the laws of human development 
and the “ constitution and course of nature.” 

To conclude; I must say that Mr. Newman, in his 
account of the genesis of religion, does himself in effect 
admit (as Harrington has remarked) an “ external rev- 
elation,” though not ina book. For what else is that 
apparatus of external influences by which the several 
preparatory or auxiliary emotions are awakened, and 
the development of your “spiritual faculty ” effected ? 
— contact with the outward world, — with visible and 
material nature,— the instruction of the living voice! 
If you acknowledge all this without derogation, as you 
imagine, to the sublime and divine functions of the 
indwelling “spiritual” power, why this rabid, this, I 
might almost say, puerile (if I ought not rather to say 
fanatical), hatred of the very notion of a “ book-revela- 
tion” ? 

Let us confess that, if a revelation be possible at all, 
it cannot be more worthy of God to give one even from 
“ within,” than in such a shape as a “book”; since 
without a “Book” man remains an idolater, in spite of 


oU4 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


his fine “ spiritual faculties,’ and a barbarian, in spite 
of his sublime intellect ; in fact, not much better than 
the beasts, in spite of all those noble capacities which, 
although they are in him, are as it were hopelessly 
locked up till he has obtained this key to their treas- 
ures. 

Nor do IJ think that the invectives of the modern 
spiritualists on this point are particularly becoming, 
when we reflect not only that they freely give mankind 
what Harrington declares to be to him, and I must say 
are equally to me, their “ book-revelations,” but in very 
deed, as he truly affirms, have given us nothing else. 
It has been much the same with all who have rejected 
historical Christianity, from Lord Herbert’s time down- 
wards. 


I paused, and Fellowes mused. At last he said, “ I 
cannot feel convinced that the ‘ absolute religion’ is not 
(as Mr. Parker says) essentially the same in all men, 
and internally revealed. The want exists in all, and 
there must, according to the arrangements of universal 
nature, be the supply; just as the eye is for the light, 
and the light is for the eye. As he says, ‘we feel in- 
stinctively it must be so. ” 

“ Unhappily,” said Harrington, “Mr. Parker says 
that many things must be which we find are not, and 
this among the number. At least I, for one, shall not 
grant that the sort of spiritual ‘ supply’ which is given 
to the Calmuck, or the savage ‘ besmeared with the 
blood of human sacrifices, at all resembles that uniform 
light which is made for all people’s eyes.” 

Fellowes seemed still perplexed with his old difh- 
culty. “ Icannot help thinking,” he began again, “that 
the ‘spiritual faculty’ acts by immediate ‘insight, and 
has nothing to do with ‘logical processes’ or ‘ intel- 


et a” ee 


ON A BOOK-REVELATION. 305 


lectual propositions, or the sensational or the imagina- 
tive parts of our nature; that it ‘gazes immediately 
upon spiritual truth.” Now in the argument you have 
constructed, you have expressly implied the contrary. 
You have said, you know, that, even if you granted 
men to be in possession of “spiritual and moral truth,’ 
there might still be large space for a divinely construct- 
ed book from the reflex operation of the intellect, the 
imagination, and. so forth, upon the products of the 
spiritual faculty; both directly, and also indirectly, in- 
asmuch as external influences modify or stimulate 
them.” 

“ But,” said I, “does not Mr. Newman himself, in 
the first part of his Treatise on the Soul, admit the re- 
ciprocal action of all these on the too plastic spiritual 
products ; and as to ‘ logical and intellectual processes,’ 
does he not continually employ them — for his system 
of opinions, though he will not allow them to be em- 
ployed against it? And by what other means than 
through the intervention of your senses, by which you 
read his pages, — your imagination, by which you seize 
his illustrations, — your intellect, by which you compre- 
hend his arguments, did he reclaim you, as you say he 
has done, from many of your ancient errors? How 
else, in the name of common sense, did he get access _ 
to your soul at all?” 

“TI cannot pretend to defend Mr. Newman’s con- 
sistency,” said he, “in his various statements on this 
subject. I acknowledge I am even puzzled to find out 
how he did convince me, upon his hypothesis.” 

“ Are you sure,” said I, laughing, “that he ever con- 
vineed you at all? However, all your perplexity seems 
to me to arise from supposing the spiritual powers of 
man to act in greater isolation from his other powers 


than is conceivable or even possible. Not apart from 
26 * 


306 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


these, but in intimate conjunction with them, are the 
functions of the soul performed. ‘The divorce between 
the ‘spiritual faculties’ and the intellect, which your 
favorite, Mr. Newman, has attempted to effect, is im- 
possible. It is an attempt to sever phenomena which 
coexist in the unity of our own consciousness. Jam 
bound in justice to admit, that there are others of our 
‘modern spiritualists’ who condemn this preposterous 
attempt to separate what God hath joined so insepa- 
rably. Even Mr. Newman does practically contradict 
his own assertions; and outraged reason and intellect 
have avenged his wrongs upon them by deserting him 
when he has invoked them, and left him to express his 
paradoxes in endless perplexity and confusion. But 
this conversation is no bad preface to some observa- 
tions on this important fallacy, (as I conceive,) which I 
have appended to the paper I have read, and, with your 
leave, I will finish with them.” They assented, and I 
proceeded. 


It is very common for philosophers, spiritual and 
otherwise, to be guilty of two opposite errors, both ex- 
posed in the first book of the Novum Organum. One 
is, that of supposing the phenomena which they have to 
analyze more simple, more capable of being reduced to 
some one principle, than is really the case; the other, 
that of introducing a cumbrous complexity of operations 
unknown to nature. It is unnecessary here to adduce 
examples of the last; quite as frequently, at least, is 
man apt to be guilty of the first. He imagines that the 
complex and generally deeply convoluted phenomena 
he is called to investigate are capable of being more 
summarily analyzed than they can be. ‘The ends to be 
answered in nature by the same set of instruments are 
in many cases so various, and in some respects so limit 


ON A PREVAILING FALLACY. 307 


and traverse one another, that though the same mul- 
tiplicity of ends is attained more completely, and in 
higher aggregate perfection, than by any device which 
man’s ingenuity could substitute for them, yet those 
instruments are necessarily very complex at the best. 
Look, for example, at the system of organs by which, 
variously employed, we utter the infinite variety of ar- 
ticulate sounds, perform the most necessary of all vital 
functions (that of respiration), masticate solid food, 
and swallow fluids. The miracle is, that any one set 
of organs in any conceivable juxtaposition should suf- 
fice to discharge with such amazing facility and rapid- 
ity these different and rapidly alternated functions; 
yet | suppose few who have studied anatomy will 
deny, that, though relatively to the variety of purposes 
it has to perform the apparatus is very simple, it is 
absolutely very complex; and that its parts play into 
one another with great facility indeed, but with endless 
intricacy. 

To apply these observations to my special object. 
Jo one who attentively studies man’s immaterial anat- 
omy, much the same complexity is, I think, apparent ; 
the philosopher is too apt to assume it to be much 
more simple than it is. It is the very error, as I con- 
ceive, into which some of you modern “ spiritualists ” 
fall when considering the phenomena of our religious 
nature. You do not sufficiently regard man as a com. 
plicated unity ; you represent, if you do not suppose, 
the several capacities of his nature, — the different parts 
of it, sensational, emotional, intellectual, moral, spirit- 
ual, — as set off from one another by a sharper boun- 
dary line than nature acknowledges. They all work for 
immediate ends, indeed; but they all also work for, 
with, and upon each other, for other ends than their 
own. Yet, as they all exist in one indivisible mind, or 


308 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


rather constitute it, they form one most intricate ma- 
chine: and it can rarely keppen that the particular 
phenomena of our interior nature we happen to be in- 
vestigating do not involve many others. ‘Throughout 
his book on the “ Soul,” we find Mr. Newman employ- 
ing expressions (though I admit there are others which 
contradict them) which imply that the phenomena of 
religion, of what he calls “spiritual insight,” may be 
_ viewed in clearer distinction from those of the intellect, 
than, as I conceive, they ever can be; and that a much 
clearer separation can be effected between them than 
nature has made possible. To hear him sometimes 
speak, one would imagine that the logical, the moral, 
and the spiritual are held together by no vital bond of 
connection; nay, from some expressions, one would 
think that the “logical” faculty had nothing to do with 
religion, if it is not to be supposed rather to stand in 
the way of it; that the “intellect” and the “spiritual 
faculty” may each retire to its “vacant interlunar 
cave,” and never trouble its head about what the other 
is doing. ‘Thus he says in one place, “ All the grounds 
of Belief proposed to the mere understanding have noth- 
ing to do with Faith at all.”* In another, “ The pro- 
cesses of thought have nothing to quicken the conscience 
or affect the soul.” + “ How, then, can the state of the 
soul be tested by the conclusion to which the intellect 
is led?” ~ And accordingly you see he everywhere 
affirms that we ought not to have any better or worse 
opinion of any man for his “ intellectual creed”; and 
that “ religious progress” cannot be “ anticipated” till 
intellectual “ creeds are destroyed.” § | 
Here one would imagine that the intellectual, moral, 


* Soul, p. 223. t Ibid. p. 245. 
t Ibid. p. 245. © § Phases, p. 222. 


ON A PREVAILING FALLACY. 309 


and spiritual had even less to do with the production of 
each other's results than matter and mind reciprocally 
have with theirs. These last, we see, in a thousand 
cases act and react upon one another; and modify each 
other’s peculiar products and operations in a most im- 
portant manner. How much more reasonably may we 
infer that the elementary faculties of the same indivis- 
ible mind will not discharge their functions without im- 
portant reciprocal action; that in no case can we have 
the process pure and simple as the result of the opera- 
tion of a single faculty ! 

If it were not so, I see not how we are to perform 
any of the functions of a spiritual nature, even as de- 
fined by you and your favorite writers ; unless, indeed, 
you would equip the soul with an entire Sunday suit 
of separate capacities of reasoning, remembering, imag- 
ining, hoping, rejoicing, and so on, to be expressly used 
by the “soul” alone when engaged in her spiritual 
functions; quite different from that old, threadbare, 
much-worn suit of faculties, having similar functions 
indeed, but exercised on other objects, 

What can be more obvious (and it must be admitted 
that the most fanatical « spiritualist” employs expres- 
sions, and, what is more, uses methods, which imply it) 
than that, whether we have a distinct religious faculty 
or whether it be the result of the action of many fac 
ulties, the functions of our “ spiritual” nature are per 
formed by the instrumentality, and involve the inter- 
vention, of the very same much-abused faculties which 
enable us to perform any other function. It is one and 
the same indivisible mind which is the subject of relig- 
tous thought and emotion, and of any other thought and 
emotion. Religious truth, like any other truth, is em- 
braced by the understanding, — as indeed it would be 
a queer kind of truth that is not is stated in proposi- 


310 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


tions, yields inferences, is adorned by eloquence, is il- 
lustrated by the imagination, and is thus, as well as 
from its intrinsic claims, rendered powerful over the 
emotions, the affections, and the will. In brief, when 
the soul apprehends, reasons, remembers, rejoices, 
hopes, fears, spiritually, it surely does not perform these 
functions by totally different faculties from those by 
which similar things are done on other occasions. Ail 
experience and consciousness are against the supposi- 
tion. In religion, men’s minds are employed on more 
sublime and elevated themes indeed, but the operations 
themselves are essentially of the same nature as in oth- 
er cases. Hence we see the dependence of the true de- 
velopment of religion on the just and harmonious action 
of all our faculties. They march together; and it is 
the glorious prerogative of true religion that it makes 
them-do so; that all the elements of our nature, being 
indissolubly connected, and perpetually acting and re- 
acting on one another, should aid one another and 
attain a more just conjoint action. If there be accepta- 
ble faith, it presupposes belief of the truth, as well as 
love of it in the heart; if there be holy habit, it implies 
just knowledge of duty; if there be spiritual emotion 
awakened, it will still be in accordance with the laws 
which ordinarily produce it; that is, because that which 
should produce it is perceived by the senses or the intel- 
lect, is recalled by the memory, is vivified by the imag- 
ination. If feith and hope and love often kindle into 
activity, and hallow these instruments by which and 
through which they act, it is not the less true, that, 
apart from these, — as constituting the same indivisible 
mind, — faith and hope and love cannot exist: and not 
only so; but when faith is languid, and hope faint, and 
love expiring, these faculties themselves shall often in 
their turn initiate the process which shall revive them 


HISTORIC CREDIBILITY. 311 


all; some outward object, some incident of life, some 
“magic word,” some glorious image, some stalwart 
truth, suddenly and energetically stated, shall, through 
the medium of the senses, the imagination, or the intel- 
lect, set the soul once more in a blaze, and revive the 
emotions which it is at other times only their office to 
express. A sanctified intellect, a hallowed imagination, 
devout affections, have a reciprocal tendency to stimu- 
late each other. In whatever faculty of our nature the 
stimulus may be felt, —in the intellect or the imagina- 
tion, — it is thence propagated through the mysterious 
net-work of the soul to the emotions, the affections, the 
conscience, the will: or, conversely, these last may 
commence the movement and propagate it in reverse 
order. Each may become in turn a centre of influence ; 
but so indivisible is the soul and mind of man, so indis- 
solubly bound together the elements which constitute 
them, that the influence once commenced never stops 
where it began, but acts upon them all. The ripple, as 
that of a stone dropped into still water, no matter 
where, may be fainter and fainter the farther from the 
spot where the commotion began, but it will stop only 
with the bank. Ordinarily many functions of the mind 
are involved in each, and sometimes all in one. 


July 24. Yesterday, a somewhat interesting conver- 
sation took place between Harrington and Edward 
Robinson, a youth at college, a friend of George Fel- 
lowes’s family. Heisa devout admirer of Strauss, and 
thinks that writer has completely destroyed the histori- 
cal character of the Gospels. I was, as usual, struck 
with the candor and logical consistency with which our 
sceptic was disposed to regard the subject. 

“ You have Lingard and Macaulay here, I see,” ‘said 


312 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


young Robinson. “TI need hardly ask, I think, which 
you find the most pleasant reading vs 

“You need not, indeed,’ cried Harrington. “ Mr. 
Macaulay is so superior to the Roman Catholic histo- 
rian (though his merits are great too) in genius, in elo- 
quence, in variety and amplitude of knowledge, in im- 
agination, in style, that there is no comparison between 
hem.” 

« And do you think Mr. Macaulay as accurate as he 
is full of genius and eloquence ?” 

“If he be not,” said Harrington, laughing, “I am 
afraid there are very few of us deeply versed enough 
in history to detect his delinquencies, or even to say 
whether they have been committed. There may be, for 
aught I know, some cases (of infinite importance of 
course) in which he has represented an event as having 
taken place on the 20th of Dec. 1693; whereas it took 
place on the 3d Jan. 1694; or he may have said that 
Sir Thomas Nobody was the son of another Sir Thomas 
Nobody, whereas two or three antiquarians can incon- 
testably prove that he was the son of Sir John Nobody, 
and nephew of the above. To me, I confess, he ap- 
pears distinguished scarcely more by the splendor of his 
imagination than by the opulence of his knowledge, 
and the imperial command which he possesses over it. 
But, in truth, the accuracy or otherwise of history, 
when it is at all remote, is a matter in which I feel less 


interest than I'once did. I read, indeed, Mr. Macaulay_ 


with perpetual renewal of wonder and delight. But 
though I believe that his vivid pictures are the result of 
a faithful use of his materials, yet, if I must confess the 
full extent of my scepticism, his work, and every other 
work which involves a reference to events which tran- 
spired only a century or two ago, is poisoned as history 
by the suspicion that to ascertain the truth is impos- 


lls cilia Ay aI 


ara, 
i a 


a 


HISTORIC CREDIBILITY. Sis 


sible. I know it must be so, if the principles of your 
favorite Strauss are to be received; and yet it seems so 
absurd, that I am sometimes inclined, on that account 
alone, to laugh at Strauss’s criticisms, just as David 
Hume did at his own speculative doubts when he got 
into society and sat down to backgammon with a friend. 
At other times, as I say, the whole field of historic in- 
vestigation seems more or less the territory of scepti- 
cism.” | 

“T know not,” said the other, “ how you can justify 
any such general scepticism from any thing that Strauss 
has written.” 

“Do you not? and yet I think it is a perfectly legiti- 
~ mate inference. Does not Strauss argue that certain 
discrepancies are to be observed, certain apparent con- 
tradictions and inconsistencies detected, in the New 
Testament narratives; and that therefore we are to 
reckon, if not the whole, yet by far the larger part, 
as utterly fabulous or doubtful, mythic or legendary ? 
Now, I cannot but feel, on the other hand, that these 
narratives are as strikingly marked by all the usual in- 
dications of historic truthfulness as any historic writings 
inthe world. The artlessness, simplicity, and speciality 
of the narrative, — a certain inimitable tone and air of 
reality, earnestness, and candor, — the general harmony 
of these so-called sacred writers with themselves and 
with profane authors (quite as general, to say the least, 
as usually distinguishes other narratives by different 
hands), — above all, the long-concealed, and yet most 
numerous ‘coincidences’ which lie deep beneath the 
surface, and which only a very industrious mining 
brings to light; coincidences which, if ingenuity had 
been subtle enough to fabricate, that same ingenuity 
would have been too sagacious to conceal so deep, 
and which are too numerous and striking (one would 

27 


314 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


imagine) to be the effect of accident ; — all these things, 
I say, would seem to argue (if any thing can) the in- 
tegrity of the narrative. Yet all these things must 
necessarily, of course, go for nothing, on Strauss’s 
hypothesis. There are, you say, certain discrepancies, 
and from them you proceed to conclude that the narra- 
tive is uncertain, and unworthy of credit; that, if there 
be a residuum of truth at all, no man can know with 
any certainty what or how much it is. We must there- 
fore leave the whole problematical. Now the question 
comes, whether we must not in consistency apply the 
same principle further; and, if so, whether we can find 
in any history whatever stronger marks of credibility ; 
whether any was ever submitted to an examination 
more severe, or so severe ; whether any can boast of a 
arger number of minds, of the first order, giving their 
assent to it.” 

« Let me stop you there,” said the other; “you must 
consider that those minds were prejudiced in favor of 
the conclusion. They were inclined to believe the 
supernatural wonders which these pretended historians 
retail.” 

“ How differently men may argue with the same prem- 
ises! I was about to mention the suspicion attaching 
to miraculous narratives, as attesting (I still think so, 
notwithstanding your observation) that stress and press- 
ure of supposed historic credibility under which so many 
powerful minds— minds many of them of the first 
order — have felt themselves compelled to receive these 
histories as true, in spite of such obstacles. Surely, 
you do not think that a miracle is in our age, or has 
been for many ages, an antecedent ground of credibil- 
ity; or that if a history does not contain enough of 
them, as this assuredly does, it is certain to be believed. 
No; do not you with Strauss contend that a miracle is 


HISTORIC CREDIBILITY. 315 


not to be believed at all, because it contradicts uniform 
experience? And yet thousands of powerful minds 
have believed the truth of these historic records against 
all this uniform experience! Their prejudices against 
it must surely have been stronger than those for it, — 
But to resume the statement of my difficulties. J say 
the question returns whether there is any history in the 
world which either presents in itself greater marks of 
historic credibility, or in which as numerous and equal- 
ly inexplicable discrepancies cannot be discovered, If 
there be none, then how far shall we adopt and carry 
out the principles of Strauss? for if we carry them out 
with rigid equity, the whold field of history is aban- 
doned to scepticism: it is henceforth the domain of 
doubt and contention ; as, in truth, a very large part of 
it in Germany has already become, in virtue of these 
very principles. Much of profane history is abandoned, 
as well as the sacred; and Homer becomes as much a 
shadow as Christ.” 

“ You seem,” said Robinson, “to be almost in the 
condition to entertain Dr. Whately’s ingenious ¢ Lis- 
toric Doubts’ touching the existence of Napoleon Bo- 
naparte !” * 

“T believe that it is simply our proximity to the 
events which renders it difficult to entertain them. If 
the injuries of time and the caprice of fortune should in 
the remote future leave as large gaps in the evidence, 
and as large scope for ingenious plausibilities, as in re- 
lation to the remote past, I believe multitudes would 
find no difficulty in entertaining those ‘ doubts,’ They 
seem to me perfectly well argued, and absolutely con- 
clusive on the historic canons on which Strauss’s work 
is constructed, — namely, that if you find what seem 


* Are the ingenious “ Historic Certainties,” by “ Aristarchus N ewlight,” 
from the same admirable mint ? ~ Ep. 


316 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


discrepancies and improbabilities in a reputed history, 
ihe mass of that historic texture in which they are 
found may be regarded as mythical or fabulous, doubt- 
ful or false. If you say the principles of Strauss are 
false, that is another matter. I shall not think it worth 
while to contest their truth or their falsehood with you. 
But if you adhere to them, | will take the liberty of 
showing you that you do not hold them consistently, if 
you think any remote history is to be regarded as abso- 
lutely placed beyond doubt.” 

“ Well, if you will be grave,” said Robinson, “ though, 
upon my word, I thought you in jest,— is it possible 
that you do not see that there is a vast difference be- 
tween rejecting, on the same ground of discrepancies, the 
credibility of the narratives of the Gospel, and that of 
any common history?” . 

“J must honestly confess, then, that I do not, if the 
discrepancies, as Strauss alleges, and not something 
else, is to be assigned as the cause of their rejection. 
If, indeed, like some criminals under despotic govern- 
ments, they are apprehended and convicted on a certain 
charge, but really hanged for an entirely different rea- 
son, I can understand that there may be policy in the 
proceeding ; but I do not comprehend its argumentative 
honesty. Be pleased, therefore, (that I may form some 
conclusion,) to tell me what are those circumstances 
which so wonderfully discriminate the discrepancies im 
the New Testament histories from those in other his- 
tories, as that the inevitable consequence of finding a 
certain amount of discrepancies in the former leads to 
the rejection of the entire, or nearly entire, documents 
in which they are found, while their presence in other 
histories even to a far greater extent shall not authorize 
their rejection at all, or the rejection only of the parts 
in which the discrepancies are found. And yet I think 
I can guess.” 


HISTORIC CREDIBILITY. 317 


“ Well, what do you guess?” 

“That you think that the miraculous nature of the 
events which form a portion of the New Testament 
history makes a great difference in the case.” 

“ And do not you?” 

“I cannot say I do; for though it is doubtless 
Strauss’s principal object to get rid of these miracles, it 
is not as miracles, but as history, that his canons of 
historic criticism are applied to them. It is as history 
that he attacks the books in which they are contained. 
His weapons are directed against the miracles, indeed ; 
but it is only by piercing the history, with which alone 
the supposed discrepancies had any thing to do.” 

“ But I cannot conceive that the historic discrepan- 
cies occurring in connection with such topics must not 
have more weight attached to them than if they oc- 
curred in any other history.” 

“This is because you have already resolved that 
miracles are impossible on totally different grounds. 
But you may see the fallacy in a moment. ‘l'alk with 
a man who does not believe miracles a priori impossi- — 
ble, and that, though of course improbable (otherwise 
they would be none, I suppose), the authentication of 
a divine revelation is a sufficient reason for their being 
wrought, and he evades your argument. You are 
then compelled, you see, to throw yourself exclusively 
upon the alleged historic discrepancies ; they become 
your sole weapon ; and if it pierces the New Testament 
history, I want to know whether it does’ not equally 
pierce all other remote history too? In truth, if, as you 
and Mr. Fellowes agree, —I only doubt, — a miracle is 
impossible, nothing can (as I think) be more strange, 
than that, instead of reposing in that simple fact, which 
you say is demonstrable, you should fly to historic 


proofs.” 
27 * 


318 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


« And do you not think that miracles are impossible 
and absurd?” 

“J think nothing, because, as I told Fellowes the 
other day, Iam half inclined to doubt whether { doubt 
whether a miracle is possible or not, like a genuine 
sceptic as I am. And this doubt, you see, even of a 
doubt, makes me cautious. But to resume. If that 
principle be sound, it seems much more natural to ad- 
here to it than to attack the Gospels as history. Strauss, 
however, has thought otherwise; and while he has left 
this main dictum unproved, —nay, has not even at- 
tempted a proof of it, —he has endeavored to shake 
the historic character of these records, treating them 
like any other records. I say, therefore, that to adduce 
the circumstance that the narrative is miraculous, 1s 
nothing to the purpose, until the impossibility of miracles 
is proved; and then, when this is proved, it is unneces- 
sary to adduce the discrepancies. If, on the other hand, 
a man has no difficulty (as the Christian, for example) 
in believing miracles to be possible, and that they have 
‘ really occurred, Strauss’s argument, as I have said, is 
evaded; and the seeming discrepancies can do no more 
against the credibility of the New Testament history, 
than equal discrepancies can prove against any other 
document. I will, if possible, make my meaning plain 
by yet another example. Let us suppose some Walter 
Scott had compiled some purely fictitious history, pro- 
fessedly laid in the Middle Ages (and surely even mirac- 
ulous occurrences cannot be more wnreal than these 
products of sheer imagination); and suppose some 
critic had engaged to prove it fiction from internal evi- 
dence supplied by contradictions and discrepancies, 
and so on, would you not think it strange if he were to 
enforce that argument by saying, ‘ And besides all this, 
what is more suspicious is, that they occur in a work 


PE Ore, 5. 5 


HISTORIC CREDIBILITY. 319 


of imagination!’ Would you not say, ‘ Learned sir, 
we humbly thought this was the point you were en- 
gaged in making out? Is it not to assume the very 
point in debate? And if it be true, would it not be 
better to stop there at once, instead of taking us so cir- 
cuitous a road to the same result, which we perceive 
you had already reached beforehand? Are you nota 
little like that worthy Mayor who told Henri Quatre 
that he had nineteen good reasons for omitting to fire 
a salute on his Majesty’s arrival; the first of which 
was, that he had no artillery; whereupon his Majesty 
graciously told him that he might spare the remaining 
eighteen?’ So I should say in the supposed case. — 'T'o 
return, then: you must, if you would consider the va- 
lidity of Strauss’s argument, lay aside the miraculous 
objection, which must be decided on quite different 
grounds, and which, in fact, if valid, settles the contro- 
versy without his critical aid. All who read Strauss’s 
book either believe that miracles are impossible, or 
not; the former need not his criticisms, — they have al- 
ready arrived at the result by a shorter road; the latter 
can only reject the history by supposing the discrepan- 
cies in it, as history, justify them. I ask you, then, 
supposing you one who, like the Christian, believes 
miracles possible, whether these historic discrepancies 
would justify you in saying that the New Testament 
records, considered simply as history, no longer deserve 
credit, and that you are left in absolute ignorance how 
much of them, or whether any part, is to be received, — 
ay or no?” 

“ Well, then, I should say that Strauss has shown 
that the history, as history, is to be rejected.” 

“ Very well; only then do not be surprised that, in 
virtue of such conclusions, I doubt whether you ought 
not to push the principle a little further, and contend | 


320 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


that, as there are no writings in the world which seem 

to bear more marks of historic sincerity and trustwor- 
thiness, and certainly none of any magnitude or variety 
in which far greater discrepancies are not to be found, 
it is doubtful whether we can receive any thing as ab- 
solutely veritable history ; and that the Book of Gen- 
esis, and Gospel of Luke, and History of Lingard, and 
History of Hume, are alike covered with a mist of 
sceptical obscurity.” 

“ But really, Mr. Harrington, this is absurd and pre- 
posterous!” 

“Tt may be so; but you must prove it, and not sim- 
ply content yourgolf with affirming it. I am, at all 
events, more consistent than you, who tell the man who 
does not see your 4 priori objection to the belief_of 
miracles, that a history which certainly contains as 
many marks of historic veracity as any history in the 
world, and discrepancies neither greater nor more nu- 
merous, must be reduced (ninety-nine hundredths of 
it) to myth on account of those discrepancies, while the 
others may still legitimate their claims to be considered 
as genuine history! Your only escape, as I conceive, 
from this dilemma, is, by saying that the marks of his- 
toric truth in the New Testament, looked at as mere 
history, are not so great as those of other histories, or 
that the discrepancies are greater; and [ think even 
you will not venture to assert that. But if you do, and 
choose to put it,on that issue, I shall be most happy to 
try the criterion by examining Luke and Paul, Mat- 
thew and Mark, on the one side; and Clarendon and 
May, or Hume, Lingard, and Macaulay, on the other; 
or, if you prefer them, Livy and Polybius, or Tacitus 
and Josephus.” 

“ But I have bethought me of another answer,” said 
Robinson. “Suppose the sacred writers affirm that 


ee 


/ 


HISTORIC CREDIBILITY. 321 


every syllable they utter is infallibly true, being in- 
spired ?” 

“ Why, then,” said Harrington, “ first, you must find 
such a passage, which many say you cannot; secondly, 
you must find one which says that every syllable would 
remain always infallibly true, in spite of all errors of 
transcription and corruptions of time, otherwise your 
discrepancies will not touch the writers ; and lastly, it 
does not affect my argument whether you find any 
such absurdities or not, since you and I would know 
what to say, though the Christian would not like to 
say it; namely, that these writers were mistaken in the 
notion of their plenary inspiration. It would still leave 
the mass of their history to be dealt with like any other 
history. Now I want to know why, if I reject the mass 
of that on the ground of certain discrepancies, I must 
not reject the mass of this on the score of equal or 
greater.” 

After a few minutes Harrington turned to Fellowes 
and said, —“ That in relation to the bulk of mankind 
there can be no authentic history of remote events 
plainly appears from a statement of Mr. Newman. He 
says, you know, after having relinquished the investi- 
gation of the evidences of. Christianity, that he might 
have spared much weary thought and useless labor, if, 
at an earlier time, this simple truth had been pressed 
upon him, that since the ‘ poor and half-educated can- 
not investigate historical and .iterary questions, ¢here- 
fore these questions cannot constitute an essential part 
of religion’ You, if you recollect, mentioned it to my 
uncle the other night; and, in spite of what he replied, 
it does appear a weighty objection; on the other hand, 
if I admit it to be conclusive, I seem to be driven to 
the most paradoxical conclusions, at direct variance 
with the experience of all mankind, —at least so they 


Py fe « THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


say. Fo. why cannot an historical fact constitute any 
part of a religion ?” 

« Because, as Mr. Newman says, it is impossible that 
the bulk of people can have any certainty in relation to 
such remote facts of history,” said Fellowes. 

“ And, therefore, in relation to any other remote his- 
tory ; for if the bulk of men cannot obtain certainty on 
such historical questions, neither can they obtain cer- 
tainty on other historical questions.” 

« Perhaps not; but then what does it matter, in that 
case, whether they can obtain certainty or not?” 

“JT am not talking—I am not thinking—as to 
whether it would matter or not. I merely remark that, 
in relation to the generality of people, at all events, 
they cannot obtain certainty on any remote historical 
questions. Of course, with regard to ordinary history, 
it is neither a man’s duty, strictly speaking, to believe 
or disbelieve ; and therefore I said nothing about duty. 
But in neither the one case nor the other is it possible 
for the bulk of mankind to obtain satisfaction, from a 
personal investigation, as to the facts of remote history, 
or indeed any history at all, except of a man’s own life, 
and that perhaps of his own family, up to his father 
and down to his son! What do you say to this, — yes 
or no?” 

“ T do not know that I should object to say that the 
great bulk of mankind never can obtain a sufficiently 
certain knowledge of any fact of history to warrant 
their belief of it.” 

“ Very consistent, I think; for you doubtless per- 
ceive that if we say they can obtain a reasonable ground 
of assurance of the facts of remote history, —so that, if 
any thing did or does depend on their believing it, they 
are truly in possession of a warrant for acting on that 


belief, — I say you then see whither our argument, Mr, 


ee 


ae ee. ed 


HISTORIC CREDIBILITY. 323 


Newman’s and your’s and mine, is going; it vanishes, 
—oixera, aS Socrates would say. If, for example, men 
can attain reasonable certainty in relation to Alfred 
and Cromwell, alas! they may do the like in reference 
to Christ; and many persons will say much more ea- 
sily. Now, with my too habitual scepticism, I confess 
to a feeling of difficulty here. You know there are 
thousands and tens of thousands amongst us, who, if 
asked respecting the history of Alfred the Great or 
Oliver Cromwell, would glibly repeat to you all the 
principal facts of the story,—as they suppose; and if 
you ask them whether they have ever investigated 
critically the sources whence they had obtained their 
knowledge, they will say, No; but that they have read 
the things in Hume’s History; or, perhaps, (save the 
mark!) in Goldsmith’s Abridgment! But they are pro- 
foundly ignorant of even the names of the principal au- 
thorities, and have never investigated one of the many 
doubtful points which have perplexed historians ; nay, 
as to most of them, are not even aware that they exist. 
Yet nothing can be more certain, than that their sup- 
posed knowledge would embrace by far the most im- 
portant conclusions at which the most accurate histori- 
ans have arrived. It would be principally in a supposed 
juster comprehension of minor points—of details — 
that the latter would have an advantage over them; 
compensated, however, by a ‘plentiful assortment’ of 
doubts on other points, from which these simple souls 
are free ; doubts which are the direct result of more ex- 
tensive investigation, but which can scarcely be thought 
additions to our knowledge ; —they are rather addi- 
tions to our ignorance. The impressions of the mass 
of readers on all the main facts of the two memorable 
periods respectively would be the same as those of more 
accurate critics. Now what I want to know is, whether 


-324 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


you would admit that these superficial inquirers — the 
bulk of your decent countrymen, recollect — can be said 
to have an intelligent belief in any such history ; whether 
you think them justified in saying that they are certain 
of the substantial accuracy of their impressions, and 
that they may laugh in your face (which they assuredly 
would do) if you told them that it is possible that Al- 
fred may have existed, and been a wise and patriotic 
prince; and that probably Oliver Cromwell was Pro- 
tector of England, and died in 1658; but that really 
they know nothing about the matter.” 

“ Of course they would affirm that they are as assured 
of the substantial accuracy of their impressions as of 
their own existence,” replied Fellowes. 

“ But what answer do you think they ought to give, 
my friend? Do you think that they can affirm a rea- 
sonable ground of belief in these things? ” 

‘¢T confess I think they can.” 

“ Ah! then I fear you are grossly inconsistent with 
Mr. Newman’s principles, and must so far distrust his 
argument against historic religion. If you think that 
this ready assent to remote historic events may pass 
for a reasonable conviction and an intelligent belief, I 
cannot see why it should be more difficult to attain a 
similar confidence in the general results of a religious 
history ; and in that case it may also become men’s duty 
to act upon that belief. On the other hand, if it be not 
possible to obtain this degree of satisfaction in the latter 
case, neither for similar reasons will it be in the former. 
If you hold Mr. Newman’s principles consistently, seeing 
that neither in the one case nor the other can the bulk 
of mankind attain that sort of critical knowledge which 
_ he supposes necessary to certainty, you ought to deny 
that any common man has any business to say that he 
believes that he is certain of the main facts in the his- 
tory either of Alfred or Cromwell.” 


A KNOTTY POINT. 325 


“You do not surely mean to compare the impor- 
tance of a belief in the one case with the importance 
of a belief in the other?” rejoined Fellowes. 

“Ido not; and ean as little disguise from myself * 
that such a question has nothing to do with the matter. 
The duty in the one case depends entirely on the ques- 
tion whether such a conviction of the accuracy of the 
main facts and more memorable events, as may pass 
for moral certainty, and justify its language and acts, 
be possible or not. If, from a want of capacity and 
opportunity for a thorough investigation of all the con- 
ditions of the problem, it be not in the one case, neither 
will it be in the other. If this be a fallacy, be pleased 
to prove it such,—TI shall not be sorry to have it so 
proved. But at present you seem to me grossly incon- 
sistent in this matter. I have also my doubts (to speak 
frankly) whether we must not apply Mr. Newman’s 
principle (to the great relief of mankind) in other most 
momentous questions, in which the notion of duty can- 
not be excluded, but enters as an essential element. I 
cannot help fancying, that, if his principle be true, man- 
kind ought to be much obliged to him; for he has ex- 
empted them from the necessity of acting in all the 
most important affairs of life. For example, you are, 
I know, a great political philanthropist; you plead for 
the duty of enlightening the masses of the people on 
political questions, — of making them intelligently ac- 
quainted with the main points of political and econom- 
ical science. You do not despair of all this?” 

“T certainly do not,” said Fellowes. 

“ A most hopeless task,” said Harrington, “on Mr. 
Newman’s principle. The questions on which you 
seek to enlighten them are, many of them, of the most 
intricate and difficult character, —are, all of them, de- 


pendent on principles, and involve controversies, with 
28 


326 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


which the great bulk of mankind are no more compe- 
tent to deal than with Newton’s ‘ Principia.’ An easy, 
and often erroneous assent, on ill-comprehended data, 
is all that you can expect of the mass; and how can it 
be their duty, when it may often be their ruin, to act 
upon this? A superficial knowledge is all that you 
can give them; thorough investigation is out of the 
question. Most men, I fear, will continue to believe it 
at least as possible for the common people to form a 
judgment on the validity of Paley’s ‘ Evidences, as on 
the reasonings of Smith’s ‘ Political Economy, They 
will say, if the common people can be sufficiently sure 
of their conclusions in the latter case to take action 
upon them, —that is, to render action a duty,— the 
like is possible in the former. Should you not hold by 
your principle, and say, that, as from the difficulty of 
the investigation it is not possible for the bulk of man- 
kind to attain such a degree of certainty as to make 
belief in an ‘historical religion’ a duty, so neither, for 
the like reason, can it be their duty to come to any 
definite conclusion, or to take any definite action, in 
relation to the equally difficult questions of politics, 
legislation, political economy, and a variety of other 
sciences? J will take another case. I believe you will 
not deny that you are profoundly ignorant of medicine, 
nor that, though the most necessary, it is at the same 
time the most difficult and uncertain of all the sciences. 
You know that the great bulk of mankind are as ig- 
norant as yourself; nay, some affirm that physicians 
themselves are about as ignorant as their patients; it 
is certain that, in reference to many classes of disease, 
doctors take the most opposite views of the appropriate 
treatment, and even treat disease in general on princi- 
ples diametrically opposed! A more miserable condi- 
tion for an unhappy patient can hardly be imagined, 


| 
: 
] 
; 


A KNOTTY POINT. 327 


Though our own life, or that of our dearest friend in 
the world, hangs in the balance, it is impossible for us 
to tell whether the art of the doctor will save or kill. J 
doubt, therefore, whether you ought not to conclude, 
from the principle on which we have already said so 
much, that God cannot have made it a poor wretch’s 
duty to take any step whatever; nay, since even the 
medical man himself often confesses that he does not 
know whether the remedies he uses will do harm or 
good, it may be a question whether he himself ought 
not to relinquish his profession, at least if it be a duty 
in man to act only in cases in which he can form some- 
thing better than conjectures.” 

“ Well,” said Fellowes, laughing; “and some even 
in the profession itself say, that perhaps it might mt 
be amiss if the patient never called in such equivocal 
aid, and allowed himself to die, not secundum artem, but 
secundum naturam.” 

“ And yet I fancy that, in the sudden illness of a wife 
or child, you would send to the first medical man in 
your street, or the next, though you might be ignorant 
of his name, and he might be almost as ignorant of his 
profession ; at least, that is what the generality of man- 
kind would do.” 

“ They certainly would.” 

“ But yet, upon your principles, how can it be their 
duty to act on such slender probabilities, or, rather, 
mere conjectures, in cases so infinitely important?” 

“I know not how that may be, but it is assuredly 
necessary.” 

“ Well, then, shall we say it is only necessary, but not 
a duty? But then, if in a case of such importance God 
has made it thus necessary for man to act in such igno- 
rance, people will say he may possibly have left them 
in something less than absolute certainty in the matter 


328 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


of an ‘ <istorical religion.” — Al! it is impossible to un- 
ravel tkese difficulties. I only know, that, if the princi- 
ple be true, then as men in general cannot form any rea- 
sonable judgment, not only on the principles of medical 
science, but even on the knowledge and skill of any 
particular professor of it, (by their ludicrous mis-esti- 
mate of which they are daily duped both of money and 
life to an enormous extent,) it cannot be their duty to 
take any steps in this matter at all. The fair applica- 
tion, therefore, of the principle in question would, as I 
say, save mankind a great deal of trouble ; — but, alas! 
it involves us philosophers in a great deal.” 

“JT cannot help thinking,” said F ellowes, “ that you 
have caricatured the principle”? And he appealed 
to me. 

«However ludicrous the results,” said I, “of Har- 
rington’s argument, I do not think that his representa- 
tion, if the principle is to be fairly carried out, is any 
caricature at all. ‘The absurdity, if anywhere, is in 
the principle affirmed; viz. that God cannot have con- 
stituted it man’s duty to act, in cases of very im perfect 
knowledge, and yet we see that he has perpetually 
compelled hiin to do so; nay, often in a condition next 
door to stark ignorance. ‘'T'o vindicate the*wisdom of 
such a constitution may be impossible; but the fact 
cannot be denied. ‘The Christian admits the difficulty 
alike in relation to religion and to the aflairs of this 
world. He believes, with Butler, that ‘ probability is 
the guide of life’ ;—-that man may have sufficient evi- 
dence, in a thousand cases, — varying, however, in dif- 
ferent individuals, —to warrant his action, and a rea- 
sonable confidence in the results, though that evidence 
is very far removed from certitude ; — that similarly the 
mass of men are justified in saying that they know a 
thousand facts of history to be true, though they never 


A KNOTTY POINT. 329 


had the opportunity, or capacity, of thoroughly investi- 
gating them, and that the great facts of science are true, 
though they may know no more of science than of the 
geology of the moon; —that the statesman, the lawyer, 
and the physician are justified in acting, where they yet 
are compelled to acknowledge that they act only on 
most unsatisfactory calculations of probabilities, and 
amidst a thousand doubts and difficulties ;—— that you, 
Mr. Fellowes, are justified in endeavoring to enlighten 
the common people on many important subjects con- 
nected with political and social science, in which it is 
yet quite certain that not one in a hundred thousand 
can ever go to the bottom of them; of which very few 
can do more than attain a rough and crude notion, and 
in which the bulk must act solely because they are 
persuaded that other men know more about the mat- 
ters in question than themselves; — all which, say we 
Christians, is true in relation to the Christian religion, 
the evidence for which is plainer, after all, than that on 
which man in ten thousand cases is necessitated to 
hazard his fortune or his life. If you follow out Mr. 
Newman’s principle, I think you must with Harrington 
liberate mankind from the necessity of acting altogether 
in all the most important relations of human life. If it 
be thought not only hard that men should be called 
perpetually to act on defective, grossly defective evi- 
dence, but still harder that they should possess varying 
degrees even of that evidence, it may be said that the 
difference perhaps is rather apparent than real. Those 
whom we call profoundly versed in the more difficult 
matters which depend on moral evidence, are virtually 
in the same condition as their humbler neighbors; they 
are profound only by comparison with the superficiality 
of these last. Where men must act, the decisive facts, 


_ as was said in relation to history, may be pretty equally 


28 * 


330 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


grasped by all; and as for the rest, the enlargement of 
the circle of a man’s knowledge is, in a still greater 
proportion, the enlargement of the circle of his igno- 
rance; for the circumscribing periphery lies in darkness. 
‘ Doubts, in proportion to the advance of knowledge, 
spring up where they were before unknown ; and though 
the previous ignorance of these was not knowledge, the 
knowledge of them (as Harrington has said) is little 
better than an increase of our ignorance.” 

“Tf, as you suppose, it cannot be our duty to act in 
reference to any ‘historical religion’ because a satisfac- 
tory investigation is impossible to the mass of mankind, 
the argument may be retorted on your own theory. 
You assert, indeed, that in relation to religion we have 
an internal ‘spiritual faculty’ which evades this difli- 
culty; yet men persist in saying, in spite of you, that 
it is doubtful, — 1st, whether they have any such ; 2d, 
whether, if there be one, it be not so debauched and 
sophisticated by other faculties, that they can no longer 
~ trust it implicitly; 3d, what is the amount of its gen- 
uine utterances; 4th, what that of its aberrations ; oth, 
whether it is not so dependent on development, educa- 
tion, and association, as to leave room enough for an 
auxiliary external revelation ;—on all which questions 
the generality of mankind are just as incapable of de- 
ciding, as about any historical question whatever.” 

Here Fellowes was called out of the room. Har- 
rington, who had been glancing at the newspaper, ex- 
claimed, —“ Talk about the conditions on which man is 
left to act indeed! Only think of his gross ignorance 
and folly being left a prey to such quack advertisements 
as half fill this column. Here empirics every day al- 
most invite men to be immortal for the small charge of 
half a crown. Here is a panacea for nearly every dis- 
ease under heavei, in the shape of some divine elixir, 


MEDICAL ANALOGIES. aol 


and, what is more, we know that thousands are gulled 
by it. How satisfactory is that condition of the human 
intellect in which quack promises can be proffered with 
any plausible chance of success!” 

I told him I thought the science of medicine would 
yield an argument against religious sceptics which they 
would find it very difficult to reply to. 

“ How so 1” 

“ Ah! it is well masked ; but I know you too well to 
allow me to doubt that you suspect what I am refer- 
ring to” 

“ Upon my word, I am all in the dark.” 

“Is there not,’ said I, “a close analogy between 
the condition of men in reference to the health of their 
bodies and the science by which they hope to conserve 
or restore it, and the health of their souls and the sci- 
ence by which they hope to conserve or restore that ? 
Has not God placed therm in precisely the same diffi- 
culty and perplexity in both cases, — nay, as I think, in 
greater in relation to medicine, — and yet is not man 
most willing and eager to apply to its most problematic 
aid, imparted even by the most ignorant practitioners, 
rather than be without it altogether? The possession 
which man holds most valuable in this world, and most 
men, alas! more valuable than aught in any other 
world, — tire itself, — is at stake; it is subjected to a 
science, or rather an art, proverbially difficult in theory 
and uncertain in practice, about which there have been 
ten thousand varieties of opinion, — whimsically cor- 
responding to the diversity of sect, creed, and priest- 
hood, on which sceptics like you lay so much stress; 
in which even the wisest and most cautious practition- 
ers confess that their art is at best only a species of 
guessing ; while the patient can no more judge of the 
remedies he cons-nts, with so much Soith, to swallow 


332 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


on the knowledge of him who prescribes them, than he 
can of the perturbations of Jupiter's satellites. Yet the 
moment he is sick, away he goes to this dubious oracle, 
and trusts it with a most instructive faith and docility, 
as if it were infallible. All his doubts are mastered in 
an instant. I strongly suspect yours would be. Ought 
you not in consistency to refuse to act at all in such 
deplorable deficiency of evidence ?” : 

“« Well,” said he, “consistent or inconsistent, it must 
be admitted that the parallel is very complete, — and 
amusing.” And he then went on, as he was apt to do, 
when an analogy struck his fancy. “ Let me see, — yes, 
our unlucky race is condemned to put its most valued 
possession on the hazard of a wise choice, without any 
of the essential qualifications for wisely making it; a 
man cannot at all tell whether his particular priest in 
medicine understands and can skilfully apply even his 
own theory. Yes,” he went on, “and I think (as you 
say) we might find, not only in the partisans of differ- 
ent systems of physic, the representatives of the various 
priesthoods, but in their too credulous — or shall we 
say, too faithful patients ?— the representatives of all 
sects. ‘There is, for example, the superstitious vulgar 
in medicine, — the gross worshipper of the Fetish, who 
believes in the efficacy of charm, and spell, and incan- 
tation, of mere ceremonial and opus operatum; then 
there is the polytheist, who will adore any thing in the 
shape of a drug; and who is continually quacking him- 
self with some nostrum or other from morning to night; 
who not only takes his regular physician’s prescriptions, 
but has his household gods of empirical remedies, to 


which he applies with equal devotion. 'Then there is’ 


the Romanist in medicine, who swears by the infalli- 
bility of some papal Abernethy, and the unfailing effi- 
cacy of some viaticum of a blue pill.” 


-_— ° 


MEDICAL ANALOGIES. 333 


“ And who,” said I, “ would represent our friend who 
has just left the room, and who has tried every thing?” 

“ Why,” he replied, “I think he is in the condition of 
a little boy of whom I heard a little while ago, whose 
mother was a homcopathist, and kept a little chest, 
from which she dispensed to her family and friends, 
perhaps as skilfully as the doctor himself could have 
done. The little fellow, going into her dressing-room, 
opened this box, and, thinking that he had fallen on a 
store of ‘millions’ (as children call them), swallowed 
up his mother’s whole doctor’s shop before he could be 
stopped. It was happy, said the doctor, when called 
in, that the little patient had swallowed so many, or he 
would have been infallibly killed. Or perhaps we may 
liken our friend to that humorous traveller, Mr. Stephens, 
who tells us, that, having been provided at Cairo, by a 
skilful physician there, with a number of remedies for 
some serious complaint to which he was subject, found, 
to his dismay, when suffering under a severe paroxysm 
in the fortress of Akaba, that he had lost the directions 
which told him in what order the medicines were to be 
taken. Whether pill, powder, or draught was to come 
first, he knew not: ‘on which, says he, ‘in a fit of des- 
peration, I placed them all in a row before me, and 
resolved to swallow them all seriatim till I obtained 
relief’? George has equal faith.” . 

“ You have omitted,” said I, “one character, — that 
of the sceptic, who believes in no medicine at all : 
who sturdily dies with his doubts unresolved, and un- 
attended by any physician. But it must be confessed 
that he is a still rarer character than the sceptic in 
religion. Nature, my dear Harrington, everywhere de- 
cides against you.” . 

“ | acknowledge,” he said, “ that we are but a scanty 
flock in any department of life; but, upon my word, the 
parallel you have suggested is so striking, that I think 


334 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


I must, in consistency, extend my scepticism to physic 
at least, and, if I am ill, refrain from availing myself of 
so uncertain an art, practised by such uncertain hands, 
and which are to be selected by one who cannot even 
guess whether they are ignorant or skilful ;— doctors, 
who may perhaps, as Voltaire said, put drugs of which 
they know nothing into bodies of which they know still 
less.” 

“ Act upon that resolution, Harrington,” said I, “ and 
you will at least be consistent: but, depend upon it, 
nature will confute you.” 

“ Why,” said he, jestingly, “ perhaps in the case of 
medicine, at all events, I might face the consequences 
of scepticism, I remember reading, in some account of 
Madagascar, that the natives are absolutely without 
the healing art; ‘and yet, says the author, with grave 
surprise, ‘it is not observed that the number of deaths 
is increased.’ Perhaps, thought I, that is the cause of 
it? 

“ The statistics,” Ireplied, “of more civilized coun- 
tries amply refute you, and show you that, uncertain as 
is the evidence on which God has destined and com- 
pelled men to act in this, the most important affair of 
the present life, and absolute as is the faith they are 
summoned to exercise, neither is the study of the art 
(uncertain as it is in itself), nor the dependence of pa- 
tients upon it (still more precarious as that is), unjus- 
tified on the whole by the result; and as to the abuses 
of downright quackery, a little prudence and common 
sense are required, and are suflicient to preserve men 
from them.” 

He mused, and, I thought, seemed struck by this 
analogy between man’s temporal and spiritual condi 
tion. I said no more, hoping that he would ponder it. 


a 


HISTORIC CRITICISM. 330 


July 25. had been so much interested in the dis- 
cussion between Harrington and young Robinson on 
the fair application of the principle of Strauss to his- 
tory in general, that I could not resist the temptation 
to tell the youth, in secret, that I thought the matter 
would admit of further discussion, and that he would 
do well to challenge Harrington plausibly to show that 
some undoubted modern event might, when it became 
remote history, be rendered dubious to posterity. He 
willingly acted on the hint the next morning. 'Tosome 
remark of his, Harrington replied thus : — 

“ Assuming with you, that Strauss has really cast 
suspicion on the historic character of the bulk of the 
transactions recorded in the New Testament, I must 
suspect that there is not an event in history, if at all 
remote, which, arguing exactly on the same principles, 
mnay not be made doubtful; and that is ” 

“Why, now,” replied the other, “do you think it 
possible that the events of the present year” (referring 
to the Papal Aggression), “which are making such a 
prodigious noise in England, will ever stand a chance 
of being similarly treated some centuries hence?” 

“If they are ever treated at all,” said Harrington ; 
“but you must have observed that it is the tendency of 
man to make ridiculous mis-estimates of the impor- 
tance of the transactions of his own age, and to imag- 
ine that posterity will have nothing to do but to recount 
them. He is much mistaken ; they forget or care not a 
doit for nine tenths of what he does; and misrepresent 
the tenth,” continued he, laughing. 

“ Well, then, upon the supposition that Pio Nono 
and Cardinal Wiseman are of sufficient importance to 
be remembered at all eighteen hundred and fifty years 
hence, that is, in the yeat 3700 of the Christian era, — 
though in all probability some new and more rational 


336 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


epoch will have jostled out both the Christian cra and 
the Mahometan hegira by that time ‘ 

« Pray be sure,” interrupted I, “ before you predict a 
new epoch, that it will be wanted; that Christianity is 
-eally dead before you bury her. You will please to 
remember that the experiment was tried in France with 
much formality, but somehow came to a speedy and 
ignominious conclusion ; the new era did not survive its 
infancy. As Paulus thinks that Christ was only in a 
trance when he seemed to be dead, so it certainly often 
is (figuratively speaking) with his religion: it seems to 
be dead when it is only ina trance. It is apt to rise 
again, and be more active than ever; and never more 
so than when, as in the middle of the last century, our 
infidel undertakers were providing for its funeral. But 
I beg your pardon for interrupting your conversation ; 
you were saying # 

“ IT was saying,” said Robinson, “ that I doubt wheth- 
er Cardinal Wiseman and his doings, eighteen hun- 

_dred and fifty years hence, could be as much the subject 
of doubt and controversy (if remembered at all) as the 
events which Strauss has shown to be unhistorical. I 
think the press alone, with its diffusion and multiplica- 
tion of the sources of knowledge, will alone prevent 
in the future the doubts which gather over the past. 
There will never again be the same dearth of historic 
materials.” 

“ In spite of all that,” replied Harrington, “ I suspect 
it will be very possible for men.to entertain the same 
doubts about many events of our time, eighteen hun- 
dred and fifty years hence, as they entertain of many 
which happened eighteen hundred and fifty years ago.” 

“ J can hardly imagine this to be possible.” 

“ Because, I apprehend, first, that you are laboring 
under the delusion already mentioned, by which men 


HISTORIC CRITICISM. 337 


ever magnify the importance of the events of their own 
age, and forget how readily future generations will let 
them slip from their memory, and let documents which 
contain the record of them slip out of existence; and, 
secondly, because you do not give yourself time to 
realize all that is implied in supposing eighteen hun- 
dred years to have elapsed, nor to transport yourself 
fairly into that distant age. As to the first;—Jlet us 
recollect that the importance of historic events is by no 
means in proportion to the excitement they produce at 
the time of their occurrence. We have many exem- 
plifications of this even in our own time; see the rapid- 
ity with which every trace of a political storm, which 
fo, a moment may have lashed the whole nation into 
fury, is appeased again: the surface is as smooth after 
a few short years as if it had never been ruffled at all! 
In all such cases, the constant tendency is to let the 
events which have been thus transient in-their effects 
sink into oblivion. But even of those which have been 
far more significant, (since each future age will teem 
with fresh events equally significant, all claiming a part 
in the page of general history,) the importance will be 
perpetually diminishing in estimate, and still more in 
interest, from the intenser feeling with which each age 
will in turn regard the events which stand in immediate 
proximity to its own. As time rolls on, ail of the past 
that can be spared will be gradually jostled out. De- 
tails will be lost; and then, when remote ages turn to 
reinvestigate the half-forgotten past, the want of those 
details will issue in the customary problems and ‘his- 
toric doubts.’ In the page of general history, events of 
a remote age, except those of a surpassing interest, 
will be reduced to more and more meagre outlines, till 
abridgments are abridged, and even these compendi- 
ums thought tedious. The interyal between decade and 
29 


338 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


decade now will be as much as that between century 
and century then. History will have to employ a sort 
of Bramah press in her compositions, and its applica 
tion will compress into mere films the loose and pulpy 
textures submitted to it by each age. Let human van- 
ity think what it will, many events and many names 
which seem imperishable will speedily die out of re- 
membrance; many lights in the firmament, destined 
(as we deem) to shine ‘like the stars for ever and ever,’ 
will hereafter be missing from the catalogue of the his- 
toric astronomer.” : 

“ But, at all events,” said the other, “though there 
are thousands of facts which will be virtually forgotten, 
it will be at all times easy to ascertain (if a sufficiently 
strong motive exist) the real character of past events 
by a reference to the documents preserved by the press. 
The press, — the press it is which will preserve us from 
the doubts of the past.” 

“T doubt that. Has there been any lack of historic 
controversy respecting’ a thousand facts which have 
transpired since the press was in full activity? You 
forget, that, in the first place, neither the press, nor any 
thing else, can preserve any original documents. Time 
will not be inactive in the future more than in the past; 
it will have no more respect for printed books than for 
manuscripts. An immense mass of print is every year 
silently perishing by mere decay. ‘The original docu- 
ments to which you refer will, eighteen hundred years 
hence, have almost all perished; few will be preserved 
except in copies, and how many disputes that alone will 
cause, it is hard to say; but we may form some guess 
from the experience of the past. Of thousands of these 
documents, again, no importance having been attached 
to them, and no one having imagined that any impor- 
tance would ever be attached to them, no copies will 


HISTORIC CRITICISM. 339 


have been taken, and there will be here again the usual 
field for conjectures. This is a common trick of time; 
—silently destroying what a present age thinks may 
as well be left to his maw. It is not even discovered 
that valuable documents are lost, till something turns 
up to make mankind wish they may be found. But 
neither is this the sole nor the chief source of future 
historic doubts. Do not flatter yourself too much on 
the wonders which the press ‘can work, amongst which 
one unquestionably is, that it will bury at least as much 
as it will preserve. Several considerations will suffice 
to show that here, too, we labor under a delusion. Ob- 
livion will practically cover many events, owing to the 
mere accumulations of the pressitself. You talk of the 
ease of consulting ‘original documents’; but when 
they lie buried in the depths of national museums, 
amidst mountain loads of forgotten and decaying liter- 
ature, it will not be so easy, even supposing the present 
activity of the press only maintained for eighteen hun- 
dred and fifty years (although, in all probability, it will 
proceed at a rapidly increased ratio), — I say it will not 
be so easy to lay your hands on what you want. The 
materials, again, will often exist by that time in dead 
or half-obsolete languages, or at least in languages full 
of archaic forms. It will be almost as difficult to un- 
earth and collate the documents which bear upon any 
events less than the most momentous, as to recover the 
memorials of Egypt from the pyramids, or of ancient 
Assyria from the mounds of Nineveh. The historian 
of a remote period must be a sort of Belzoni or Layard. 
If we can suppose any thing so extravagant as that the 
British Museum will be in existence then, having pre- 
served during these centuries (as it does now) all new 
books, and accumulated ancient and foreign literature 
only at the rate it has during these few years past, the 


340 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


library alone will extend over hundreds of acres at least. 
This, unless our posterity are fools, can hardly be the 
case; and therefore much will be rejected and left to 
the mercy of the great destroyer. But the very exist- 
ence of any such repository is itself a very doubtful 
supposition. Comprehensive, indeed, may be the de- 
struction of many large portions of our archives, essen- 
tially necessary to minute accuracy at so distant a 
date; nay, England herself may have ceased to exist. 
If her subterranean fuel be not exhausted, a cheaper 
and equally abundant supply of it may have been found 
elsewhere, and transfer for ever the chief elements of 
her manufacturing or commercial prosperity ; or entire- 
ly new and more transcendent sources of science may 
have done the same thing, and our country may be left, 
like a stranded vessel, to rot upon the beach! Her 
furnaces extinguished, her manufactories ‘deserted, her 
cities decayed, the hum of her busy population silenced, 
she may present a spectacle of desolation lke that of so 
many other famous nations which have risen, eulmi- 
nated, and set for ever.” 

“Or,” interrupted I, “(and may God avert the 
omen!) the same ruin may be accomplished still ear- 
lier, and by more potént causes. . Her nobles enervated 
by luxury, her lower classes sunk in vice and ignorance, 
and both the one and the other decaying in piety and 
religion (a sure result of neglecting that Bible which 
has directly and indirectly formed her strength), she 
may have fallen a victim to the consequences of her 
own degeneracy, or to an irresistible combination of the 
enemies who envy and hate her. That picture of the 
splendid imagination of the great historian of our day 
may be realized, ‘when some traveller from New Zea- 
land shall, in the midst of a vast solitude, take his stand 
on a broken arch of London Bridge to sketch the rains 


of St. Paul’s.’” 


HISTORIC CRITICISM. 341 


“In short,” resumed Harrington, “in sevezal ways 
that appalling catastrophe may have taken place; and, 
should this be the case, how many questions will be 
asked of history, but asked in vain! As for Rome, — 
that other great name in the present strife pitted against 
Lingland, — for aught we can tell, she may by that time 
be in desolation far more remediless than when the 
grim Attilas and Alarics stormed her walls. For aught 
we know, the agency of those terrible elements which 
more or less mine the soil of Italy may have made her 
‘like unto’ Herculaneum or Pompeii; or that silent 
desolater, the malaria, which Dr. Arnold thinks will be 
perpetual and will increase, may long before that period 
have reduced, not only the Campagna of Rome, but the 
whole region of the ‘seven hills, to a pestilential soli- 
tude.” 

“ But all this is mere vision?” said Robinson. 

“ Certainly ; but it is the vision of the possible. Simi- 
larly wonderful and equally unexpected revolutions have 
taken place in the history of past nations and empires 
in a less space of time; and some enormous changes, 
we know, must happen during the next eighteen hun- 
dred and fifty years; and they will tend both to jostle 
out thousands of events of meaner moment, and to 
effect a comparative destruction of the memorials of the 
past. You do not suppose, I presume, that London 
and Rome are absolutely privileged from the fate which 
has overtaken Babylon and Memphis. I, for one, there- 
fore, do not expect that the time will,arrive when, in 
the historic investigations of the past, our Strausses 
will not find abundant scope for ingenious theories; 
nay, many real sources of perplexity even in reference 
to events which, at the time of their occurrence, seemed 
written as ‘witha pen of iron on the rock for ever, 


But even supposing no other difficulty, I cannot lay 
29 * 


342 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


small stress upon the mere accumulation of materials 
on which the historian, two thousand years hence, will 
have to operate, if he would recover an exact account 
of the events of our time. It is much the same whether 
you have to dig into the pyramids of Egypt, or into the 
catacombs of the buried literature of two thousand 
years, for the memorials which are to enable you to 
arrive at the exact truth, at least as to any events of 
transient interest, however important at the time of 
their occurrence. It will be like ‘hunting for a needle 
in a bundle of hay,’ as the proverb says.” 

“Still, I cannot imagine that facts like those with 
which our ears have been ringing during the last eight 
months, can ever be contested.” 

“ Can you not?” said Harrington. “ I cannot imagine 
any thing more likely than that, eighteen hundred and 
fifty years hence, such an event, on Strauss’s principles, 
may be shown to be very problematical.” 

“Will you endeavor to show how it may probably 
be?” rejoined Robinson. 

“ Well, I have no objection, if you will give me till 
this evening to prepare so important a document.” 

In the evening, after supper, he amused us by read- 
ing us a brief paper, entitled 


The Parpant AGGRESSION SHOWN TO BE IMPOSSIBLE. 


“T shall proceed on the supposition that some Dr. 
Dickkopf or Dr. Scharfsinn, for either name will do, has 
to deal (as my uncle here believes our modern eritics 
_ have to deal in the Gospels) with an account literally 
true. ‘This learned man I shall imagine as existing in 
some nation at the antipodes eighteen hundred and fifty 
years hence, and intellectually, if not literally, descended 
from some erudite critics of our age. Let me further 


PAPAL AGGRESSION IMPOSSIBLE. 343 


suppose that the principal memorials of the current 
events are found in the page of some continuator of 
Macaulay (may the Fates have pity on him! I am 
afraid he will be far worse than even Smollett after 
Hume), who publishes his work only sixty years hence. 
Let us suppose him (as surely we well may) proceeding 
thus: ‘ During the year 1850-51, our countrymen are 
represented to us, by the accounts of those who lived at 
the time (some few still survive), as having been in a 
condition of political and religious excitement almost 
unprecedented in their history. It was occasioned by 
the attempt of the Pope to reéstablish the Roman 
Catholic hierarchy, which had been extinct since the 
Reformation. As these events, though all-absorbing to — 
the actors in them, (as are so many others of very 
secondary importance,) have now shrunk to their true 
dimensions, and are, in fact, infinitely less momentous 
than others which were silently transpiring at the time 
almost without notice, I shall content myself with 
simply condensing a brief contemporaneous document 
which gives the chief points, without passion or preju- 
dice, in a narrative so simple that it vouches for its own 
veracity : — 

“¢ Without permission of the Crown, or any nego- 
tiations with the Government whatever, Pope Pius the 
Ninth divided the whole of England into twelve sees, 
and assigned these to as many Roman Catholic bishops 
with local titles and territorial jurisdiction. ‘The chief 
of them was one Nicholas Wiseman (by birth, it is 
said, a Spaniard), who was created Archbishop of 
‘Westminster and Cardinal. 

“<The said Wiseman issued a pastoral letter, which 
was read on the 27th day of October, 1850, in all the 
churches and chapels of the Romanists, congratulating 
Catholic England on the reéstablishment of the Roman 


344 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


hierarchy. In it he used the startling expression, “ Our 
beloved country has been restored to its orbit in the 
ecclesiastical firmament, from which its light had long 
vanished.” 

«“¢The nation was the more surprised at all this, inas- 
much as the position of Pio Nono was not such as to 
warrant any expectation of a step so audacious. Little 
more than a year had elapsed since his own subjects in 
Rome itself rebelled against him, murdered his Prime 
Minister, and compelled him, in the disguise of a me- 
nial, to fly from Rome ; nor was he restored except by 
the arms of the French, who besieged and took Rome 
in 1849. 

«¢ That the Pope, while holding his own little domin- 
ions on so precarious a tenure, should venture to assume 
such an exercise of supremacy over the most powerful 
nation in the world, —a nation so jealous of its inde- 
pendence, which had so long been, and which still was, 
most averse to his claims, —seemed almost incredible to 
the people of England; and they were proportionably 
indignant. 

«“¢ Some affirmed that the aforesaid Cardinal Wiseman 
was the chief cause of it all,—the spectacle of many 
conversions from the Church of England to that of 
Rome having deceived him into a notion that the na- 
tional mind was far more generally disposed to receive 
Romanism, and to make up the long-standing breach 
with the Papacy, than was really the case. The princi- 
pal cause of the conversions above mentioned was what 
was called the “ Oxford Movement.” In the Univer- 
sity of Oxford had sprung up a body of men who had 
consecrated their lives to the diffusion of doctrines in- 
definitely near those of Rome. They spoke of the 
Reformation contemptuously; advocated very many 
obsolete rites and usages; magnified the power of the 


PAPAL AGGRESSION IMPOSSIBLE. 3-Ld 


Church and the prerogatives of the priesthood. Many 
of them, at length, finding that they could not, with 
any shadow of consistency, remain in the English 
Church, abandoned it; but many others remained, and 
propagated the same opinions with impunity. They 
were regarded as traitors by their brethren, though no 
steps were taken to prevent them from teaching their 
notions, nor to deprive them of their benefices and 
emoluments. Among those who gave up their livings, 
of their own accord, from the feeling that they could 
not hold them with a safe conscience, the principal was 
one afterwards called Father Newman. 

~“*Now this Newman must by no means be con- 
founded with another of the same name, Professor 
- Newman,—in fact his own brother, — who was also 
educated at Oxford, but whose history was in most 
singular contrast with his. While the one brother went 
over to Rome, exceeded in zeal and credulity even the 
Romanists themselves, and sighed for a restoration of 
medieval puerilities, the other lapsed into downright 
infidelity, and denied even the possibility of an external 
revelation. 

“¢ Very many thought, that, if the Oxford party had 
been wise enough to proceed more gently in the propa- 
gation of their notions, they would have accomplished 
much greater things, and perhaps eventually brought 
the popular mind to embrace the Romish Church. But 
their later publications (and especially No. 90) opened 
the eyes of many, and the frequent defections from the 
English Church, which were almost daily announced in 
the papers, opened the eyes of many more. 

“¢ But whether or not Wiseman and other principal 
persons were misled by erroneous representations of 
the state of the English mind, certain it is that he ad- 
vised the Pope to take this perilous step. ‘The Pope 


346 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


was persuaded ; he assured the people of England, that 
he should not cease to supplicate the Virgin Mary and 
all the saints whose virtues had made this country il- 
lustrious, that they would deign to obtain, by their in- 
tercessions with God, a happy issue to his enterprise. 

«The excitement produced by the publication of the 
Pope’s proceedings throughout England was prodig- 
ious, and can hardly be conceived by us at this day. 
Every county, city, and almost every town, held meet- 
ings in the utmost alarm and indignation ; and resolved 
on petitioning the Queen and Parliament to do some- 
ihing or other to prevent the Pope’s measures from tak- 
ing effect; and especially to annul all claims to local 
and territorial jurisdiction in this country. The uni- 
versities; the clergy in their dioceses; the Bishops col- 
lectively, — even Philpotts of Exeter, though intoxicated 
with zeal for those Oxford notions which had done all 
the mischief; the municipalities; almost all organized 
bodies, whether of Churchmen or Dissenters ; — dis- 
cussed and resolved. Amongst these meetings one was 
held at the Guildhall of London, which was crowded 
with the merchant princes of that great city, and all 
that could represent its wealth, intelligence, and energy. 
One Masterman opened the proceedings, made a ve- 
hement speech against the Bishop of Rome and his 
pretensions, and proposed a stringent resolution, which 
was carried by acclamation. 

«¢ Ata dinner given by the Lord Mayor, at which 
were present many of the Ministers of the Crown, the 
Lord Chancellor Wilde spoke very boldly, and, as some 
thought, unadvisedly, on his possible future relations to 
the Cardinal. 

«¢ Cardinal Wiseman published a subtle defence of 
himself and the Popish measure, which he addressed 
to the people of England; and, whether consistently 


PAPAL AGGRESSION IMPOSSIBLE. 347 


or inconsistently, pleaded in the most strenuous man- 
ner for the inviolable observance of the principles of 
“ religious liberty.” 

“¢ A singular and indeed inexplicaple circumstance 
occurred in the course of this controversy. In a lec- 
ture, delivered at the Hanover Square Rooms, a cer- 
tain Presbyterian clergyman had asserted that the oath 
prescribed in the Pontificale Romanum, which the Car- 
dinal Wiseman must have taken to the Pope when he 
received the Pallium as Archbishop of Westminster, 
notoriously contained a clause enjoining the duty of 
persecution. ‘This clause, a facetious Englishman said, 
ought to be translated, “I will persecute and pitch into 
all heretics to the utmost of my power”; and every one 
knew that the Pope of Rome looked upon the English 
as the greatest heretics in the world. 

“¢ When Wiseman heard of the representations thus 
made, he caused his secretary to write to the Protestant 
lecturer, to say that the clause in the oath to which 
he had referred was not insisted upon, in his (the Car- 
dinal’s) case, by the Pope, and that, if his calumniator 
chose to go to the Cardinal’s library, he would see that 
it was cancelled in his copy of the Pontifical. The 
Protestant accepted his challenge, and went to the said 
library. He was then shown the oath, and found the 
clause in question, totidem verbis ; not cancelled, how- 
ever, but marked off by a line in black ink drawn over 
it, and (as it seemed) very recently. 
~ “*Pamphilets were published on this curious circum- 
stance on both sides; the Roman Catholics contended 
that the mere fact of Wiseman’s challenge was a suf- 
ficient proof of his consciousness of rectitude. 

“* On the whole, after half a year of perpetual agita- 
tion, both in and out of ‘Parliament, a measure was 
_ passed which was notoriously inadequate to suppress 
the offence, and which was broken with impunity. 


348 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“Jt is gratifying to add, that, notwithstanding the 
dangerous and vehement excitement which so long in- 
flamed the minds of the people, no life was lost except 
on one occasion. The sufferer -—contrary to what 
might have been expected — was of the dominant party ; 
a policeman, who was endeavoring to repress the party 
violence of some Irish Catholics in the North of Eng- 
land. ” 


“ Now it need not be said,” proceeded Harrington, 
“that these sentences contain what is perfectly well 
known by you—for myself I say nothing — to be the 
merest matter of fact, narrated in the simplest language, 
without any art or embellishment. Would you like 
to hear how Dr. Dickkopf, of New Zealand, or Kam- 
tschatka, or Caffre-land, might treat such a document 
eighteen hundred and fifty years hence, amidst that im- 
perfect light which we well know rests upon so many 
portions of the past, and which may, very possibly, be 
felt in the future? I think-it would not be difficult 
for him to show that the ‘ Papal Aggression’ was im- 
possible.” ! 

“ We will, at least, listen to you,” said Robinson. 

“ Let us suppose, then, some learned Theban stum- 
bling upon this brief record of an obscure event, and, as 
usual, making (if only because he had discovered what 
nobody in thé world either knew or cared about) a huge 
commentary upon it; concluding from the internal evi- 
dence, the simplicity of the style, the absence of all 
imaginable motives for misrepresentation, and some 
external corroborative fragments painfully gleaned from 
the history of the period, that these sentences formed a 
genuine, literal, historic account of certain events which 


transpired in England in the year 1850. This, of 


’ 


| 


' 


PAPAL AGGRESSION IMPOSSIBLE. 349 


course, would of itself be sufficient tc make ten Dr. 
Dickkopfs turn to and prove the contrary ; and any one 
of them, I imagine, might, and probably would, thus 
reply. Excuse his clumsy style. He would say :— 

“¢That there may have been, and very probably 
was, some nucleus of fact which may have served as a 
groundwork for these pseudo-historical memorials, is 
not denied: but to regard that document of which it is 
professedly. a condensation as a genuine record of the 
period in question, can only, we conceive, be the infe- 
licity of an essentially uncritical mind. Most evidently, 
whether we regard the known events and relations of 
that age (as far as they have come down to us) or the 
internal characteristics of the document itself, we dis- 
cover unequivocal traces of an unhistoric origin. Let 
us look at both these sources of evidence in order. If 
we mistake not, the document, even as it now stands, 
bears on its very front, that the original document, so 
far from being a literal description of the events of the 
time to which it professedly related, was allegorical, or 
at most historico-allegorical, and most likely designed 
broadly to caricature and satirize some perceived ten- 
dencies or conditions of the English religious develop- 
ment in certain parties of that age. But whether it be, 
or be not, reducible to the class of allegorico-ecclesias- 
tico-political satire, certainly no person of critical dis- 
cernment can for a moment allow it to be a literal 
statement of historic events. And first to look at the 
internal evidence. 

“¢ Ts it possible to overlook the singular character of 
the names which everywhere meet us? They, in fact, 
tell their own tale, and almost, as it were, proclaim of 
themselves that they are allegorical. Wiseman, New- 
man (two of them, be it observed), Masterman, Philpotts, 


Wilde. Who, that has been gifted with even a mod- 
30 


300 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


erate share of critical acumen, can fail to see that these 
are all fictitious names, invented by the allegorist either 
to set forth certain qualities or attributes of certain 
persons whose true names are concealed, or, as I rather 
think, to embody certain tendencies of the times, or 
represent certain party characteristics. Thus the name 
“ Wiseman” is evidently chosen to represent the pro- 
verbial craft which was attributed to the Church of 
Rome; and Nicholas has also been chosen (as I appre- 
hend) for the purpose of indicating the sources whence 
that craft was derived. In all probability the name 
was selected just in the same manner as Bunyan in his 
immortal Pilgrim’s Progress (which still delights the 
world) has chosen “ Worldly Wiseman ” for one of his 
characters. It is said that he was a Spaniard: but 
who so fit as a Spaniard to be represented as the agent 
of the Holy See? while, as there never was a Spaniard 
_ of that name, every one can see that historic probability 
has not been regarded. The word “ Newman” again 
(and observe the significant fact that there were two 
of them) was, in all probability, I may say certainly, 
designed to embody two opposite tendencies, both of 
which, perhaps, claimed, in impatience of the effete 
humanity of that age (a dead and stereotyped Prot- 
estantism), to introduce a new order of things. These 
parties (if I may form a conjecture from the document 
itself) were essaying to extricate the mind of the age 
from the difficulties of its intellectual position; an age, 
asserting inconsistently, on the one hand, the freedom 
of spiritual life, and, on the other, claiming for the Bible 
an authorized supremacy over all the phenomena of 
that spiritual life. One of these parties sought to solve 
this difhieulty by endeavoring to resuscitate the spirit 
of the past; the other, by attempting to set human in- 
tellect and consciousness free from the yoke of all ex- 


PAPAL AGGRESSION IMPOSSIBLE. Sol 


ternal authority. In all probability the names were 
suggested to the somewhat profane allegorico-satirical 
writer by that text in the English version, “ Put on the 
Newman,” the new man of the spirit. We are almost 
driven to this interpretation, indeed, by the extreme 
and ludicrous improbability of two men — brothers, 
brought up at the same university — gradually receding, 
part passu, from the same point in opposite directions, 
to the uttermost extreme; one till he had embraced the 
most puerile legends of the Middle Ages, the other, till 
he had proceeded to open infidelity. Probably such a 
' curious coincidence of events was never heard of since 
the world began; and this must, at all events, be re- 
jected. 

“¢ Similar observations apply to the name Masterman, 
which, in ancient English, was applied to him who was 
not a “servant” or “journeyman,” and is not unfitly 
used to indicate collectively the assemblage of wealthy 
merchants who, like those of Tyre, were “ princes ”; as 
well as to imply that the powerful class to which they 
belonged were the “ Mastermen” in the country, and, in 
fact, spoke in.a potential voice in all such crises as that 
supposed. It might also, perhaps, be designed oblique- 
ly to intimate, that, whatever the clergy and the theolo- 
gians of different parties might wish to realize, it was, 
after all, the powerful and independent class of the laity 
who were the “ mastermen,” and would not succumb to 
any spiritual guides whatever, even though called by 
the specious names of Wisemen and Newmen. The 
mere singularity of the names alone ought to decide 
the point. And what further confirms our view is, that 
it is impossible to point out any Englishmen of any 
distinction who ever had any of these names. Here 
we do not argue from conjecture, after merely looking 
into the most recent biographical repertories (as, for 


352 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


example, the “ Bibliotheca Clarisimorum Virorum,” in 
three hundred and fifty volumes folio); for it is no ar- 
gument that this meagre collection makes no mention 
of any such names; since, in the successive compila- 
tions of such works, (as the world grows older,) it has 
been found necessary to extrude from time to time 
thousands of lesser names, which had twinkled in pre- 
ceding ages. But, deeply anxious to establish truth, 
we have at infinite pains caused to be fished up, from 
the depths of the archives of our national museums, 
very rare reprints of some of the works of the age near- 
est that in which these events are said to have occurred, 
and in none of these works is there an individual men- 
tioned of the name of Newman or Masterman, and 
only one comparatively obscure person of the name of 
Wiseman, —a presumptive proof that they were fic- 
titious names. Is it possible that these curious and 
varied coincidences can be the mere effect of chance?’ 

“ J shall spare you,” said Harrington, “ Dr. Dickkopf’s 
learned etymological disquisitions on the names Wilde 
and Philpotts, which, aided by the imputed ‘rashness ’ 
of the one, and the ‘intoxicated zeal’ of the other, he 
clearly demonstrated to be fictitious. 

« After which, I will suppose him to proceed thus: — 
‘We presume we have said enough to convince any 
acute and candid mind of the extreme improbability of 
the document being designed to convey to posterity a 
literal statement of facts; not that we for a moment 
think it necessary to suppose that any evil design actu- 
ated the writer, whoever he might be. It was most 
likely intended, as we have already said, to be an 
allegorico-political caricature of certain events which 
did undeniably occur, and which formed a slender basis _ 
of historic fact on which to found it. 

«“‘ Nor is the particularity of some of the dates and 


PAPAL AGGRESSION IMPOSSIBLE. 300 


alleged circumstances of much weight in our judgment. 
He must be a miserable inventor of fiction indeed, who 
cannot clothe a narrative in some verisimilitude of this 
kind. It is said, that the historian makes a seeming 
reference to those who were living at the very time.: 
“Some,” he says, “still survive.’ But who does not 
see that the word “survive” may refer to the accounts 
(which he, it appears, knew little how to interpret), not 
the persons; though, be it observed, that on such a 
supposition he does not vouch for having seen them, and 
may have spoken merely from report. This very clause, 
too, has undeniably much the appearance of an inter- 
polation. There are many other little circumstances, 
which, to those who have been accustomed to detect 
unhistoric characteristics in ancient documents, and to 
draw a sharp line between the mythic or allegoric and 
the historic, sufficiently proclaim the origin of this sup- 
posed narrative of facts. 

“¢ But the internal evidence, conclusive as it is, is as 
nothing to the external. If we examine the document 
by the light of the facts which contemporary history 
supplies, nay, even by the probability or otherwise of 
its own contents, we shall see the extreme absurdity of 
supposing that the account from which it was borrowed 
Was ever meant to be a record of facts. We hesitate 
not to say, that the political facts of which it makes 
mention are many of them in the highest degree in- 
credible. That there may have been a rebellion at 
Rome is very possible; but assuredly the only nation 
in Europe, (if we except England,) that was not likely 
to take the Pope’s part against a republican movement, 
or reseat him on his throne, was the French. To sup- 
pose them thus acting is contrary to all that we know 
of the history of that nation, and of human nature. 


The traces of the terrible revolutions which in that 
30 * 


304 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


- century, and at the close of the preceding one, shook 
France again and again to her centre, and the out- 
lines of which still live in authentic history, all show 
the extent to which infidelity and democratic violence 
prevailed in France; nay, we know that during the do- 
minion of the Emperor Napoleon, if we are to regard his 
history as literally true, and not a collection of fables and 
legends,“ as some even of that age maintained, that 
great conqueror arrested and imprisoned the Pope. 
That France should have undertaken the task of sub- 
duing a republican movement, just when she had come 
out of a similar revolution, or rather many such, — and 
of reseating the Pope on his throne, when she had been 
more impatient of the restraints of all religion than any 
other nation in Europe, —is perfectly incredible! Not 
less improbable is it that, supposing (as may perhaps 
be true) that there was a basis of fact in the asserted re- 
bellion of the Romans, and Pio Nono’s restoration to 
his dominions (though not by France, that the intelli- 
gent reader will on politico-logical grounds pronounce 
impossible, but more probably by the Spaniards), — yet 
can we suppose that a power which was always cele- 
brated for its astuteness and subtlety would choose that 
very moment of humiliation and ignominy to rush into 
an act so audacious as that of reéstablishing the Rom- 
ish hierarchy in England, — ina nation by far the most 
powerful in the world at that time, —a nation which, if 
it had pleased, could have blown Rome into the air in 
three months? It must needs have strengthened a 
thousand-fold the strong antipathies of the English to 
the See of Rome. It would, indeed, have justified that 
storm of indignation with which it is said to have been 
met. 


* Dr. Dickkopf may be here supposed to refer to the “ Historic Doubts” 
of Archbishop Whately, which may well deceive even more astute critics. 
— Ep. 


PAPAL AGGRESSION IMPOSSIBLE. oOo 


“¢ There is much that is palpably improbable in many 
other parts of the statement (simple as it seems to be) 
when submitted to the searching spirit of modern criti- 
cism. How ridiculous is the story of Cardinal Wise- 
man’s pretending that the oath in receiving the Pallium 
had been modified for his convenience ; little less so, in- 
deed, than his challenge to his Presbyterian antagonist 
to examine it, and that, too, in the very book in which 
the contested clause was noé cancelled! All this is 
such a maze of absurdity, that it is impossible to believe 
it. In the first place, do we not know that, throughout 
the whole history of the Papal power, the inflexible 
character, not only of its doctrines, but of its official 
forms and solemnities, was always maintained, and 
that this pertinacity was continually placing it at a dis- 
advantage in the contest with the more flexible spirit of 
Protestantism? It would not renounce, in terms or 
words, the very things which it did renounce in deeds, 
and never could prevail upon itself to get over this un- 
accommodating spirit! Yet here we are to believe that, 
at the Cardinal’s request, a certain part of a most sol- 
emn ceremonial — that of receiving the Pallium — was 
remitted by the Pope! If it were so, the Cardinal 
would certainly have desired to conceal it. If he could 
not have done that, he would, at least, never have given 
so easy a triumph to his adversary as to challenge him 
to inspect the very copy of the Pontifical, in which, af- 
ter all, the oath was not cancelled, in order that he 
might be satisfied that it was! Who can believe that 
a Cardinal of the Romish Church, Wiseman or fool, 
would have been simple enough for such a step as this ? 
It is plain that the historian himself was not unaware 
that such an objection would immediately suggest it- 
self, and endeavors to guard against it, —a suspicious 
circumstance in itself, — which may serve to warn us 


306 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


how little we can depend on the historic character of 
the document. 

«¢ Again; what can be more improbable, than that, 
when a great nation was convulsed from one end to the 
other, as the English are said to have been, there should 
have been no violence, not even accidentally, attending 
those huge and excited assemblages; a thing so natu- 
ral, nay, so certain! Who can believe that only one 
man was sacrificed, and he on the predominant side? 
I have discovered in my laborious researches on this 
important subject, that only seventy years before, when 
a cry of the same nature, but much less potent, was 
raised, London was filled with conflagration and blood- 
shed. Who ever heard, indeed, of commotion such as 
this is pretended to have been, and its ending in voz et 
preterea nihil ? 

«¢ It is superfluous to point out the absurdity of sup- 
posing a Cardinal of the Romish Church lecturing the 
people of England on “ the claims of religious liberty ” 
or so great a nation, in such a paroxysm, HN 
many months in the concoction of a measure confessed 
to be a feeble one, and suffered to be broken with im- 
punity! 

“+ But, lastly, my laborious researches have led to the 
important discovery, that, in this very year of pretended 
hot commotion, England — in peace with all the world, 
profound peace within and profound peace without — 
celebrated a sort of jubilee of the nations, in a vast 
building of glass (wonderful for those times), called the 
Great Exhibition, to which every country had contrib- 
uted specimens of the comparatively rude manufactures 
of that rude age! London was filled with foreigners 
from all parts of the earth; the whole kingdom was in 
a commotion, indeed, but a commotion of hospitable 
festivity, in which it shook hands with all the world! 


PAPAL AGGRESSION IMPOSSIBLE. 357 


This is a piece of positive evidence which ought to set- 
tle the whole matter. In short, the external and inter- 
nal evidence alike warrants us in rejecting this absurd 
story as utterly incredible.’ ” 


“ Upon my word,” said young Robinson, « you have 
said more than I thought you could have said on such 
atheme. I really almost doubt whether Dr. Dickkopf 
has not the best of it, and whether we ought not to 
agree that the ‘ Papal Aggression’ is a sheer delusion.” 

“QO,” said Harrington, “I have not given you half 
the arguments by which an historian, eighteen hundred 
years hence, might prove that what has actually oc- 
curred never could have occurred, and that what has 
not occurred must, in the very nature of things, have 
occurred, by a necessity alike political, historical, ethi- 
cal, logical, and psychological. And no doubt Dr 
Dickkopf is right on the principles on which acute 
critics may argue; that is, the assumption that certain 
probabilities will justify conclusions on such subjects, 
One might naturally have supposed the Pope to have 
been more politic than to take this step, —the French 
more consistent than to suppress the Republican move- 
ment of Italy,—the English less moderate in express- 
ing their indignation, — and certainly that there would 
never have been such an array of odd names to gar- 
nish one brief document. And now, I bethink me, 
it is far from impossible that some Dr. Dickkopf may 
even apply to Strauss’s Leben Jesu, and Dr. Whately’s 
‘ Historic Doubts’ similar reasoning, to prove that the 
first was elaborate irony, and the second a sincere ex- 
pression of scepticism.” 

“ Flow can that be?” 

“Thus: he will prove that the age was remarkably 
fond of such species of ironical literature. As Strauss, 


308 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


in his preface, has expressly admitted (though we all 
know what he means) that Christianity is true, and has 
suggested an unimaginably absurd hypothesis as to its 
true import, founded on the principles of the Hegelian 
philosophy, the learned Dr. Dickkopf will say, that no 
one who so spoke of Christianity could have intended 
seriously to discredit it, and yet certainly could not 
possibly believe the absurd theory of it concocted out 
of German philosophy; ergo, that we must regard the 
whole book asa piece of prolonged irony, —a little too 
characteristic of German pedantry, it is true, but sin- 
cerely designed to expose that extravagance of historic 
criticism and Biblical exegesis which had so distin- 
guished the author’s countrymen, by which Homer had 
been annihilated, a great part of ancient history ren- 
dered doubtful, and the Bible turned into a riddle-book ; 
that this hypothesis is confirmed by the space which 
Strauss gives to the exposure of the absurdities of the 
Rationalists, which, in fact, occupies at least half his 
work. Dr. D. will even_very likely prove that Strauss 
himself is a fictitious name; Strauss, in the German, 
meaning an ostrich, which, according to the proverb, can 
digest any thing. On the other hand, as he will be able 
to show that Strauss’s work is a piece of prolonged 
irony, he will very likely show that Whately’s ‘ His- 
toric Doubts’ may be a sincere expression of opinion 
(which, in fact, many have even in our day wisely be- 
lieved it to be), and he will argue it with a gravity wor- 
thy of one of the commentators who interpret the irony 
of Socrates literally; he will prove it from the air of 
sobriety and sincerity which pervades the pamphlet. 
Nay, for aught I know, he may show that there was an 
‘historic place’ for such a piece in the undoubted myths 
to which the wondrous achievements of Napoleon had 
given rise; he will say that these had produced a natu- 


, 
ye 
+ 
4 


PAPAL AGGRESSION IMPOSSIBLE. 302 


ral feeling of scepticism as to the greater part of the 
facts, though he will think Dr. Whately has gone a 
little too far in doubting his very existence; there being 
sufficient evidence that such a man as Napoleon existed, 
although the world really knows little more about him 
than about Semiramis or Genghis Khan!” 

“ Well,” said I, “having proved that Dr. Strauss’s 
work is irony, and Whately’s brochure a sincere ex- 
pression of opinion, it would be hard for even Dr. Dick- 
kopf to go further. But, seriously, it is no laughing 
matter. This is a strange power the future historian 
has over us.” 

“O, be assured,” said Harrington, “he can make of 
us just what he pleases. Never was a question more 
unreasonable than that of the Irishman, who, being con- 
jured, on some occasion, to think of posterity, said, ‘1 
should like to know what posterity has done for us.’ It 
will do something for us, depend upon it. <A future 
historian will not only make us confess, with the 
Prayer-Book, ‘that we have done the things we ought 
not to have done, and have left undone the things we 
ought to have done, but ‘that we have done the things 
that we have not done, and have left undone the things 
that we have done.’” 

“T wonder,” said I, “that some of Dr. Strauss’s 
countrymen have not proved him to be an imaginary 
being,—a myth. It were very easy to do it on such 
principles.” 

“It has been done long since,” said Harrington, “by 
Wolfgang Menzel.” 

“Thank you,” said I, in conclusion, “ you have clear- 
ly proved that a true history may plausibly be shown 
to be false.” 

“And therefore, my dear uncle, you will, I hope, 
justify my scepticism in all such matters,” said he 


360 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


archly. I acknowledge, as Socrates says, that 1 felt for 
a moment as if I had received a sudden blow, and hard- 
ly knew what to say. “ No,” said I at last, “unless you 
can justify Dr. Strauss’s theory of historical criticism, 
of which you yourself acknowledge you have doubts. 
With that any thing may be proved false ; meantime it 
appears that the facts to which it is applied may be un- 
doubtedly true.” 


On retiring to my chamber, I mused for some time 
on the facility with which man’s ingenuity or inclina- 
tions can pervert any facts which he resolves shall be 
otherwise than they are. “ Dubious as is the Eviprence,” 
Harrington was fond of saying, “I distrust the Jupér 
still more”; an admission, I told him, of which I should 
‘one day remind him. ‘Tired at last of this unpleasant 
theme, I took up a volume of Leibnitz’s Theodicée, 
which happened to lie on the table, and read those 
striking passages towards the conclusion in which he 
represents Theodore (reluctant to accept the iron theory 
of necessity) as privileged with a peep into a number 
of the infinite possible worlds; from which he has the 
satisfaction of seeing that, bad as is the lot of Sextus in 
the best of all possible worlds, that lot, Sextus being 
what he is, could not possibly be any better; a queer 
consolation, by the way, till we know why Sextus must 
be what he is, or why Sextus must be at all. 

I sank off to slumber in my chair, no doubt under the 
soporific effects of this metaphysical morphine. While 
I slept, the previous discussions of the day and the 
dose of Theodicée operating together suggested a very 
strange dream, which I shall here record. It shall be 
entitled 


THE PARADISE OF FOOLS. 361 


Tue ParapisE oF Foo.s. 


Methought I saw a grave and very venerable old man 
with a long white beard enter my chamber, and quietly 
seat himself opposite to me. Instead of asking who he 
was and how he came there, nothing seemed more 
naturaland proper. We all know how easily in dreams 
the mind dispenses with all ceremony; little or no in- 
troduction is required; every one is at once on a most 
delightful footing of familiarity with all the world; and 
the greatest possible incongruities appear just comme tl 
— faut. 

He told me that he had come from a very curi- 
ous part of the “best of all possible worlds,” — the 
“ Paradise of Fools”; and on my looking surprised, 
said, — 

“ Are you ignorant, then, that there is a spot in the 
universe where a vicegerent of the Deity has at his dis- 
posal unlimited power and wisdom to enable him to 
comply with the somewhat whimsical conditions of the 
theories of those wonderful philosophers who have 
taken upon them to say how the universe might have 
been constructed without any supreme or presiding in- 
telligence at all; or have modestly suggested, that, 
had they been consulted, certain notable improvements 
might have been effected in its fabrication or govern- 
ment; or, lastly, who have complained of the revelation 
which God has vouchsafed to man, or contended, that, 
if true, it might have been more unexceptionably framed, 
and more skilfally promulgated ?” 

«“ And what is the result?” I asked. 

« The result is a part of ‘the everlasting shame and 
contempt’ which are the heritage of impiety.” 

“There must have been enough for the said vicege- 
rent to do,” I remarked. i 

31 


362 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


«Not so much as you imagin2,” said he, smiling. 
“The conditions of their theories, so far as even om- 
niscience can comprehend or omnipotence realize them, 
are indeed exactly complied with; but nevertheless, 
they often baffle both. Sometimes the reproof, thus 
implied, obliquely strikes more than its immediate ob- 
jects; it alights even on some of the profoundest phi- 
losophers, who never had it in their thoughts to eall in 
question the infinite superiority of Divine Power and 
Wisdom, but who have delivered themselves a little too 
positively about ‘monads’ and ‘atoms, and ultimate 
constituents of the universe. They have sometimes 
been not a little scandalized, as well as laughed at, 
when some half-witted, muddle-headed followers, glad 
to escape their trial, pretended to have founded systems 
of Pantheism, or what is just the same thing, Athe- 
ism, on some of their too obscure definitions. One 
man declared that he could do nothing without the 
Monads of Leibnitz, each of which, says that philoso- 
pher, ‘is a mirror representing the universe, though 
obscurely, and knows every thing, but confusedly,’ 
which last clause is unexceptionable enough. Another 
rogue asked for the archetypes of Plato, —he had had 
a notion, he said, that a good deal might be made out 
of them without Plato’s Demiurgus; another, for the 
constituents of the vital automata of Descartes: he had 
been misled to believe, that, if animals could be mechan- 
ically produced, the whole universe might have been so 
produced also. ‘The Archangel assured them and others, 
with much politeness, that, if the philosophers in ques- 
tion could in any way make their meaning intelligible, 
Heaven would do its poor best to realize their concep- 
tions; but that it was impossible for even omnipotence 
to execute commands which even omniscience could not 
comprehend. 


THE PARADISE OF FOOLS. 363 


“ Similarly, one man requested that he might be pro- 
vided with a little of Aristotle’s « Eternal Matter, but 
he was told that there was no such thing in rerum 
natura, and that it was unfortunately too late to make 
it. He seemed to think himself very unjustly treated. 
Another demanded some of the Atoms of Kpicurus, to 
make a slight experiment with ; unexceptionably spheri- 
eal, invisible, and so forth. These, he was told, he 
might be accommodated with; and that all he had to 
do was to shake them long enough, and doubtless the 
fortuitous jumble would come out at last a miniature 
world. 

“ Above all, there were several German philosophers, 
who, having founded various physical theories, more or 
less extensive, on the perspicuous mataphysics of their 
countrymen, were confident that, if they had not hit on 
the modes which Supreme Wisdom had adopted, their 
modes were yet very excellent modes ; and they were 
absolutely clamorous that their experiments should 
begin. But, alas! many of them stood but little chance 
of being ever tried, for the very same reason which 
prevented the disciple of Leibnitz from obtaining his 
‘Monads’; their authors could not make their meaning 
intelligible to the delegated omniscience. As to some 
of the metaphysicians, since their theories embraced 
nothing less than the evolution of the ‘totality ’ of the 
universe, the ‘infinite’ and the ‘absolute’ included, it 
was of course impossible that they could be tried. But 
it was thought an appropriate punishment for them to 
be condemned to write on till they had made their mean- 
ing intelligible. Some have labored with incredible 
industry to comply with this very reasonable request, 
but their notions seem to grow darker and darker at 
every step; and one in particular has written a huge 
folin, in which, by universal consent of men and angels, 


364 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


there is not the smallest glimmer of meaning from one 
end to the other. Another even complains in private 
of the want of philosophical genius in the court of 
celestial criticism, and declares that in Germany they 
could have constructed ten theories of the universe and 
given twenty solutions of the ‘infinite’ and the ‘ abso- 
lute’ in the time he has been vainly endeavoring to ex- 
plain his meaning to personages SO deplorably deficient 
in metaphysical acumen.” 

He was going on with some other details of the hap- 
less philosophers. 

“ T would much rather hear from you,” said I, “ for 
it is a subject in which I take a far deeper interest, 
how those have sped who have objected to the Revela- 
tion with which God has favored man, on the ground 
that it cannot be true, else it would have been more un- 
exceptionably framed or more wisely promulgated. I 
take it for granted that these have not been destitute of 
opportunities of trying their experiment.” 

« Surely not,’ replied my new acquaintance. “‘ ‘The 
Paradise of Fools’ is well stocked with creatures of this 
description. Many of the experiments which required 
time to test them were commenced bundreds of years 
ago, and are completed. Others are still unfinished, 
while there have been many which required only to be 
commenced and they were completed instantly, to the 
confusion of their authors.” 

« T should much like,” said I, “to hear an account of 
some of these experiments.” 

“ Willingly,” answered he; “ only you must bear in 
mind that they were all to be performed under certain 
limitations, without which no revelation which God can 
give to man would be of the slightest value.” 

He then informed me, that the evidence afforded 
must not be such as to annihilate the conditions on 


THE PARADISE OF FOOLS. 365 


which man is to be made virtuous and happy, if he is 
to be made so at all. It must not be inconsistent with 
the exercise of either his reason or his faith, nor pre- 
vent the play of his moral dispositions, nor triumph by 
mere violence over his prejudices; it must not operate 
purely upon the passions or the senses, nor overbear ail 
possibility of offering resistance,—as would be the 
case, for example, if a man were placed on the edge of 
a precipice, and told that he would immediately be 
thrown over it if he transgressed the rules of temper- 
ance or chastity. ‘The happiness, he said, which God 
originally designed for his intelligent and moral crea- 
tures was a voluntary happiness, springing out of the 
well-balanced and well-directed activity of all the prin- 
ciples of their nature. Any revelation, therefore, must 
proceed on the same basis, both as regards itself and 
the mode in which it is given. Arguments and motives 
morally sufficient, but not more than sufficient, must 
be addressed to the intellect and the conscience. All 
this is necessary to render the felicity and perfection of 
man stable and permanent; for without such a trial, 
triumphantly sustained, he would have no security that, 
in the presence of objects which tend to exert an over- 
powering influence on his senses or his feelings, he 
might not at some period of the unknown future be 
impelled to take a wrong path, and err and be miserable. 
This ordeal, originally designed for man and not super- 
seded by revelation, must be continued long enough to 
render the principles on which he ought to act practical 
habits; after which he may go forth (sublime and glo- 
rious privilege!) to any part of this world, or of any 
world to which God may call him, master of himself 
and his destiny; not afraid lest temptations should 
warp him from a steadfastness that is founded on the 


decisions of an inflexible will, itself directed by enlight- 
j ai 


366 TIE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


ened intelligence and moral rectitude ; in. a word, in 
possession of the appropriate and alone appropriate 
happiness of an intellectual and moral agent; an image 
of the felicity of the great Creator himself. ‘This con- 
dition, he said, of giving a revelation, so far from being 
a hardship, is not only in harmony with the nature of 
things, but is itself an expression of the Divine Benefi- 
cence; which designed for man no casual, precarious 
safety, as the result of transient external violence to 
the principles of his nature, but a permanent and invio- 
lable equilibrium of the powers within him. “ Heaven 
itself,” he concluded, “ can be heaven only to those who 
are internally prepared for it.” 

« Were there many,” I cried, “who were willing to 
make the experiment of giving a revelation more un- 
exceptionably than it has been given, on the proposed 
conditions ?” 

« Not very many, as you may well suppose,” said he ; 
“but if objectors had been unwilling, they would have 
been compelled to make it.” 

« But upon whom were the experiments to be made?” 
said 1; “for unless they were beings of the same intel- 
lectual and moral condition as themselves, I see not 
how aught could come of it.” 

“QO, be satisfied,’ he replied; “ the beings who are 
provided for these Projectors are as like the inhabitants 
of your world as one egg is like another. ‘They are 
men themselves; communities made up of those who 
have lived in your world, and who have gone out of it 
with the same thoughts, passions, and emotions as they 
had on earth; many of them having rejected or disre- 
garded the true revelation, and others never having had 
that revelation to reject. Of course they are ignorant, 
in this intermediate state, of the tricks which these ex- 
perimenters play with them, till they are concluded 3 


THE PARADISE OF FOOLS. 367 


but in rejecting the new revelations, many of them 
reject the very conditions of belief which when on earth 
they said would have been sufficient, while the result 
in those who make the experiment and in those on 
whom the experiment is made is to ‘vindicate the 
ways of God to man.’ ” 

‘There is a wonderful power in getting over trifling 
difheulties in our dreams, or I should certainly have 
demurred to some parts of this statement. Instead of 
that, I let my mind, as usual in such cases, dwell on 
a point which was no difficulty at all. “ If,’ said IJ, 
“they are dead, they are probably very different beings 
from what they were when alive.” 

“ And do you think,” said he, with an unpleasant 
half-sneer, “ that mere change of place makes any dif- 
ference in man, or that the merely physical effects of 
death operate a magical change on his intellect, affec- 
tions, emotions, and volitions, or can render him a more 
reasonable creature than he was before ?” 

“I did not mean exactly that,” said I; “but surely it 
is not possible that the soul without the body can be 
exactly like the soul with it.” 

“ Have not your philosophers,’ said he, “often 
founded, or pretended to found, scepticism on the argu- 
ment that it is difficult to tell whether life itself may 
not be a series of illusions like those in dreams? Have 
they not even declared, that, as in dreams all seems to 
be real, so in their waking moments all may be no more 
than a dream? nay, have not some said that it is im- 
possible to tell which is the real and which the dream- 
ing part of their existence ?”’ 

“ ‘There have been such,” said I, “ but I never knew 
any one convinced by their reasoning.” 

“Perhaps not,” he answered, ‘ but it may be of use 
to show you, that in that intermediate state men may, 


\ 


368 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


as in dreams, be capable of a series of thoughts and 
emotions exactly similar to what they experienced in 
this world; quite as vivid, and,” he added with a quiet 
smile, “ perhaps as rational.” 

« But they must be more coherent than those which 
now visit our slumbers,” said I. 

“Jt is hardly worth while to contend about the dif- 
ference,” he replied, with a sarcastic expression which I 
did not much like. “It is sufficient to say, however, 
that these projectors have no reason to complain; for 
with whatever show of reason men think or act here, 
so under exactly the same laws of thought and emotion 
do those shadows act there.” 

“But I, who am now awake and perfectly sen- 
sible u 

He laughed outright. “ Are you so sure,’ said he, 
“that you are awake. How do you know it?” 

“ Because I am conscious of it,” said I. 

« And this too, I suppose, is a philosopher,” he mut- 
tered to himself. “ Well,” he continued aloud, “ we 
must not discuss these matters just now; you must 
believe me when I say that the communities to which 
our experimenters go to work, on their own hypotheses, 
are just as capable of ingenious reasoning and impartial 
and candid deliberation, as you are now in your present 
waking moments. You wish to hear a few of these 
experiments ?” 

I nodded. 

_« Well, then, first, there was one worthy philosopher, 
who, having seen the advantages which infidelity has 
gained from the discrepancies and other difficulties 
occasioned by the varied testimonies which the evan- 
gelical historians have left behind them, resolved, after 
having wrought a number of splendid miracles (uni- 
formly affirmed and never denied by the parties in 


THE PARADISE OF FOOLS. 369 


whose presence they were performed), that they should 
_ all be consigned to one single history, so admirably con- 
structed that there was not a single discrepancy from 
beginning to end.” 

“ And what was the effect?” _ 

“ Why, in the first place, you must recollect that, ac- 
cording to that or any other mode of authenticating a 
divine communication by miracles, there were a great 
many more of those who never saw the miracles than 
of those who did; for if miracles had been common, 
they would have ceased to be miracles. ‘There were 
vast numbers, therefore, who, even in the age in which 
they were performed, never believed them ; but, what is 
more, in four generations there was not a soul that did 
not treat them as old wives’ fables.” 

“ Surely they were very unreasonable,” I said. 

“ Not at all; it was inevitable; for it was asked (and 
every one assented to it), whether it was reasonable 
that a story so marvellous, and so contrary to experi- 
ence, should be believed on any single testimony, how- 
ever unexceptionable? There were also keen critics 
who said, that, as there was proof that in the very age in 
which the miracles were wrought there were many who 
did not believe the message which they professedly con- 
firmed, it was a strong indication that the whole was a 
fiction; while some others of still greater acumen dis- 
covered that the very freedom from all discrepancies 
and contradictions in the account itself smelt very 
strongly of art and design; that this perfection of con- 
sistency was not the characteristic of any history ever 
written by an honest man, and that no doubt it had 
been elaborately contrived by a single highly inventive 
mind.” | 

“The idiots!” I exclaimed. “ Why, this very cir-— 
cumstance ought surely to have led them te argue the 
other way.” 


370 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


« They thought otherwise; and I must say I think 
they argued very plausibly, and that very much is to be 
said for them. They thought that perfect self-consis- 
tency might possibly be obtained by a single mind of 
highly inventive power, and they preferred believing 
that, to receiving such wonderful things supported by 
any single testimony.” 

“ But did none attempt to remedy this defect of the 
unhappy speculator ?” | 

“O, yes; another attempted to establish in a second 
community of our reasonable shadows a revelation on 
the same basis of miracles; but instead of trusting to 
one witness, he recorded the results by ten; and with 
such perfection of art, that all the ingenuity of all the 
critics of succeeding ages could not detect a single va- 
yiation other than in language; the records themselves 
and their contents were precisely the same. 

“ And what was the result.” 

“ Much the same as before; for this identity of sub- 
stance and almost of manner showed most evidently, 
said the critics, that there had been collusion between 
the several parties who had framed the revelation : — 
and in the course of three or four generations it was 
universally rejected, as totally unworthy of belief.” 

“ T see not, then, how a revelation by any such means 
could be authenticated at all?” 

« Why, our reasonable creatures require a great deal 
of management, — that is the truth. There is no way 
in which you cannot prove to your own satisfaction, 
that no one of any divine communications (given under 
the conditions aforesaid) is to be believed; but perhaps, 
after all, the method would have been more sure, had 
these sages confined these communications to differ- 
ent testimonies, in which the general harmony and un- 
designed coincidences should be manifest, but which 


THE PARADISE OF FOOLS. 371 


should contain slight discrepancies, and even some ap- 
parent contradictions, which the parties, if there had 
been collusion, would certainly have obviated. ‘This 
would, perhaps, have been the best guaranty that there 
could not be any fraud in the case.” 

“ But this,’ I remarked, “ was just the mode in which 
the Gospels of Christ were consigned to mankind.” 

“And you see with what mixed result. It was suf- 
ficient, indeed, to justify the method, if it was attended 
with less disastrous effects than any other mode. For 
it is a problem of limits even at the very best.” 

Prompted, I suppose, by some recollection of Wool- 
ston’s opinion, that the miracles of Jesus Christ would 
have been better worthy of attention, and more likely 
to be credited by posterity, if they had been performed 
on royal or notable public characters, or in their pres- 
ence, I felt curious to know if any one had been deter- 
mined to guard against a similar error. Iwas told that 
there had been; and for a time every thing went on 
well. This sage’s doctrine and pretensions were rap- 
idly propagated within certain limits cf space and time. 
But alas! while even in his lifetime the zeal of some 
of the royal or noble converts caused the doctrine to be 
regarded with considerable suspicion among the rival 
great, to whom the fame of the miracles was known 
only by hearsay, its early success proved an insur- 
mountable objection in a few generations ; for several 
learned infidels showed to the satisfaction of the entire 
community, that the pretended revelation could have 
been nothing else than a conspiracy of crafty states- 
men for political purposes. It was sagely remarked, 
that it was not wonderful that a doctrine had been be- 
lieved, and had rapidly diffused itself, which had all 
the prestige of rank, and power, and statesmanship in 
its favor; that if, indeed, it had appeared amongst the 


372 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


poor and ignorant portion of mankind, and the miracles 
had been witnessed by such as from their situation 
were rather likely to be persecuted by the great and 
powerful than to be favored by them; and lastly, if the 
pretended revelation had vanquished such resistance 
instead of being suspiciously allied with it, something 
more might be said in its behalf; but as it was, the 
whole thing was evidently — a lie. 

« Really,” said I, “it seems a more difficult thing for 
God to make known his will to mankind than J had 
supposed.” 

“It is,’ said he, “on those conditions to which his 
wisdom for man’s own ‘sake has restricted him, and 
apart from which condition I have already stated that 
a revelation would be worthless. It is a far more diffi- 
cult matter than those who have not reflected upon the 
subject would suppose, and you would have more rea- 
son to say so still, if you knew, as I do, how ludicrous- 
ly, as well as how utterly, many other attempts have 
failed.” 

He then araused me with an account of a sage, who, 
seeing the ill consequences which had followed from 
the very local or limited character of miracles (when a 
few generations had passed by), resolved to remedy 
this by a series of wonders so stupendous and magnifi- 
cent, that the very echo of them, as it were, should re- 
verberate through the hollow of future ages, and so 
impress all tradition as to render them independent of 
the voice of individual historians. He accordingly 
passed to the very extreme limit (if he did not go be- 
yond it) by which a miracle is necessarily restricted, — 
that of not disturbing general laws. He succeeded per- 
fectly in the place in which these phenomena were wit- 
nessed ; though, as there were multitudes who knew 
nothing of the operator, but were only conscious that 


THE PARADISE OF FOOLS. 373 


nature was playing some strange pranks, no connection 
was established in their minds between the doctrine 
and the miracles. But the consequences in the future 
were the direct contrary of what the sanguine philoso- 
pher had contemplated. If the impression of those 
who saw these splendid wonders could have been pro- 
longed, all had been well; but so far from the report 
of them conciliating the regard of posterity, their very 
grandeur and vastness were the principal arguments 
against them, and condemned them to universal rejec- 
tion. Who could believe, men said, that phenomena 
so strange and so portentous —not only so different 
from, and so contrary to, the uniform course of nature, 
but so much beyond the limited purpose which must 
have been contemplated by a ¢ruly miraculous interpo- 
sition — had ever happened? If they had been single 
events, very transient and local disturbances of the 
laws of nature for a high object, the case, they candidly 
avowed, would have been wholly different; but such 
wholesale infractions of the fixed laws of the universe 
were at once to be summarily rejected. ‘They were 
unquestionably the offspring of an age of fable and 
superstition. 

It did not fare much better with another miracle- 
monger of the same species. In one community, which 
he had engaged to instruct in the mysteries of his rev- 
elation, the wonders he wrought extended to such large 
classes of phenomena, and for a time were so constant, 
that they ceased to be miracles at all. As he could not 
add ubiquity to his other attributes, few attached any 
importance to his declaration that he was the author of 
such vast and distant operations, and fewer absolutely 
believed him. Moreover, men became accustomed to 
phenomena which they daily witnessed; for such, it 


seems, is the constitution of human nature in any 
32 


v4 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


world, that things cease to be wonderful when they 
cease to be novel. Were it otherwise, men wou.d be 
always wondering; for no miracles are more wonderful 
than the phenomena of every day in every part of the 
universe. Not a few wise men, therefore, in this com- 
munity, succeeded in giving a perfectly plausible ac- 
count of these wholesale infractions of the uniformity 
of nature. Nature, it was said, was unquestionably 
uniform, but only in the several larger portions of her 
operations; that within certain cycles she varied her 
operations, as was clearly seen in the introduction of 
new races, and so forth; that the generation which had 
just witnessed such departures from ‘what. seemed the 
established order of things were doubtless living at an 
epoch in which the huge evolution of the universe was 
about to exhibit one of these new phases, and that the 
series of sequences to which they were just becoming 
accustomed would afterwards continue uniform for a 
number of ages; that such things were no miracles, but 
merely indicated that nature was, within certain limits, 
only variably uniform, though she was also, within cer- 
tain limits, uniformly invariable. After this very clear 
deliverance of philosophy, few people troubled them- 
selves about the claims of this seer, and were so fast 
getting accustomed to the new uniformity, that it 
seemed highly probable that the very next generation, 
or at most the second, would begin to prate in the old 
style about the invariable uniformity of nature, and to 
treat all the ancient order of things which their progen- 
itors had seen changed as a lying fable of those remote 
ages. Enraged at such an unexpected result of his 
operations, the projector changed his plan, and broke 
in upon nature with such a startling explosion of single 
miracles, that there could be no longer any doubt that 
nature was neither ‘variably uniform’ nor ‘ uniformly 


THE PARADISE OF FOOLS. 375 


invariable’: the only question was, whether nature was 
not ‘uniformly variable’ He set the sun spinning 
through the heavens at such a rate, or rather at such a 
jaunty pace, that no one knew when to expect either 
light or darkness; men now froze’ with cold, and now 
melted with heat; the seasons seemed playing one 
grand masquerade; the longest day and the shortest 
day, and no day at all, succeeded one another in rapid 
succession , and the whole universe seemed threatened 
with ruin and desolation. Now, he thought, was the 
time to put an end to all this strange disorder, and 
avow himself the great agent in all these marvels! But 
he found, to his chagrin, that, so far from having con- 
vinced men of the being and attributes of God, and of 
the truth of the revelation which he had brought them, 
they were never less disposed to listen to any such 
story; and, in fact, that the very few whose terror had 
left them at all in possession of their senses, had be- 
come perfectly convinced that the universe was under 
the dominion of Chance, and that the only orthodox 
belief in such a world was stark Atheism. As there 
will always be men who will speculate upon chance 
itself, there were not wanting philosophers who con- 
cocted admirable theories of all this disorder, but not 
one of them dreamed of the true. They all agreed, 
however, that the state of things admitted of no remedy 
from any gods, celestial or infernal; for if a divine artif- 
icer had existed, they said, it could not have oceurred. 
And thus the miracles which were designed by this 
great man to convince the world of a God, served for 
a demonstration that there was and could be none! 
They equally served also to stifle the sage’s claims to 
be considered God’s messenger, for, unhappily exhort- 
ing a large crowd to believe that he was the cause of 
all the misery and terror which they had suffered, they 


Oren THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


were so exasperated that they took summary vengeance 
on him: upon which the sun resumed his wonted quiet 
pace again through the heavens, and every thing fell 
into the old harmonious jogtrot of uniformity. Philos- 
ophers who lived at a distance from the scene of the 
prophet’s exit quietly adjusted their old theory to the 
new phenomena, and showed most conclusively that 
the whole train of things had been just what must 
necessarily have been, and could not but have hap- 
pened, without the most serious consequences ; while 
those who lived near to the scene aforesaid, and were 
privy to the circumstances, speculated upon the curious 
coincidence between the impostor’s death and the return 
of nature to her order. It was well, they said, that 
such things did not happen often, or they could not fail 
to give rise to some superstitious notions as to some 
law of causation between ignorant fanaticism and the 
sublimest phenomena of the universe. 

Lasked my visitor how it fared with the many who 
have objected to the clearness and force of prophecy, 
and who have not scrupled to assert, that, if prophecies 
had been given, they would have been given in such a 
shape as would have made their claims more plain, and 
their fulfilment more incontrovertible. ‘“ Were there 
none who relied on this mode of demonstrating the re- 
ality of a divine revelation, and manifesting their claims 
to be regarded as an embassy from heaven?” 

« Many,” he replied, “so many that it were tedious 
to detail them. But youare quite mistaken if you sup- 
pose it possible that even God can employ any moral 
methods which man cannot evade; how much less the 
‘fools who think they can improve upon his! The wis- 
dom of God,” said he, with a melancholy smile, “is 
no match for the ingenuity of man. As to your pres- 
ent question, you know there have been persons who 


THE PARADISE OF FOOLS. O1d 


have continually complained in your world that proph- 
ecy is so obscure that the event cannot be certainly 
known to have been referred to by it, or else so plain 
that, ipso facto, it proves that the prediction must have 
been composed after the event. Now it was precisely 
in attempting the juste miliew between these extremes 
that our prophetical speculators wrecked themselves. 
Men always had it to say that their prophecies had 
been either too plain or too obscure; or, if very plain, 
and yet as plainly written before the event, that their 
very plainness had insured their own accomplishment 
by prompting to the very actions and conduct they so 
clearly indicated!” 

“I can easily conceive that,” I answered. “ But now 
for another problem. Not a few of our older infidels 
complained of the revelation in the Bible on the score 
that the maxims of conduct which it delivers are tuo 
general to be of any use, because the application of 
ther is still left to be adjusted by a reference to par- 
ticular circumstances; and that, if a revelation were 
framed, it ought to take in all the limitations of action , 
and furnish, in fact, a complete system of casuistry ; 
otherwise it would be of no avail, Were there none 
who attempted this task?” 

“ Five-and-twenty men,” he answered, “who were 
destined to be a torment to one another, were instructed 
to compile such a system of rules, and publish them for 
the benefit of a certain community as an infallible rule 
of life.” 3 

“ And have they completed it ?” 

“ Completed it! They have been sitting now for 
two hundred years, and have not yet exhausted the in- 
_ finitude of cases to be digested under their very first 
capitulary.” He said that being all of them ingenious 


men, all anxious to show their ingenuity, and knowing 
32 * 


378 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


that their credit was staked upon the completeness of 
their system, it was incredible what strange and ridic- 
ulous contingencies and combinations of circumstance 
they had suggested as modifying the application of 
their general rules. The books of law, voluminous as 
they are in most civilized countries, were conciseness 
itself compared with this new code of morals. It was 
thought by many, that the labors of the commissioners 
would not come to an end till long after the race for 
whose benefit it was designed had ceased to exist. 
Afraid, apparently, of such a direful contingency, they 
had published, about three years before, the first part, 
in seventy-five folio volumes, containing limitations, 
illustrative cases, exceptions, and modifications, in re- 
lation to that very obscure general maxim, ‘ Do unto 
others as ye would that others should do unto you. 
All questions appertaining to this point were from that 
time to be decided by the precise statements contained 
in these statutes at large. - But their mere publication 
sufficed to make an incredible number of infidels in the 
- authority of the commission. Such a voluminous rule, 
they truly said, could be no rule at all, and could be 
fruitful of nothing but everlasting litigation. If (they 
admitted) general maxims had been as briefly as possi- 
‘ble laid down, and men’s common sense had been left 
to interpret and apply them with the requisite restric- 
tions, there would be much more to be said for their 
divine origin. But on such a system, no man, if he 
lived for a thousand years, could tell what his duty 
was. Many complained that, before they found the rule 
for which they were in search, the time for its applica- 
tion had passed away. Many excused themselves from 
complying with the dictates of justice and charity, be- 
cause they could not discover the cases that related to 
thei: special circumstances; some even denied that the 


A FUTURE LIFE. 379 


rules could have been devised by heavenly wisdom, be- 
cause, having carefully studied the whole of the sev- 
enty-five volumes, they did not hesitate to say, that 
there were many cases which had not been provided 
for at all! 

I was so amused with this last disastrous attempt to 
construct a revelation, that I laughed outright, and in 
so doing awoke. I found that my lamp was fast going 
out; so, dismissing the innocent volume of Leibnitz 
which had suggested all these incongruities, I went to 
bed; firmly convinced that the shadows of men in the 
“ Paradise of Fools” are about as wise and ingenious 
as are men themselves. 


July 28. Ihad this morning some curious, and, if it 
had not been for the grave importance of the subject, 
amusing conversation with Mr. Fellowes on his views, 
or rather his no views, respecting a “future life.’ He 
said he wished he could make up his mind whether the 
doctrine was true; also whether, as some of his favorite 
writers supposed, it was of no “ spiritual ” importance 
to decide it. I said it certainly did seem of some im- 
portance. Ireminded him of Pascal’s saying, that he 
could excuse men’s contented ignorance with any thing 
rather than that. “ They are not obliged,” says he, “ to 
examine the Copernican system ; but it is vital to the 
whole of existence to ascertain whether the soul is 
mortal or not.” 

« Mr. Newman,” said Fellowes, “thinks very differ- 
ently : but then his whole mind is differently constituted 
from Pascal’s.” 

I admitted it, of course. 

“ Mr. Newman’s views,” he continued, “on the sub- 
ject, certainly do not quite satisfy me ; and yet they are 


380 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH, 


very sublime. If he has any hope in this matter, (of 
which he appears not absolutely destitute,) it is from the 
sheer strength of a ‘faith’ which triumphs over all ob- 
stacles, or rather hangs upon nothing. He ridicules all 
intellectual proofs, and at the same time declares that 
his ‘spiritual insight’ deserts him. It is a faith pure 
from all reason, and from all ‘insight’ too. As to in- 
sight in this matter, I] must agree with him, that, to 
ascertain the fact of a future life by ‘ direct vision, is ‘to 
me hitherto impossible.’ ” 

Harrington, who was sitting by, smiled: “ You speak 
of your ‘insight’ and ‘direct vision’ much as a High- 
lander might talk of his ‘second sight’ As to your 
present difficulty, do you remember the advice of Ra- 
nald of the Mist to Allan M’ Aulay, when the ‘ vision’ 
obstinately averted its face from him? ‘Have you re- 
versed your own plaid,’ said Ranald, ‘according to the 
rule of the experienced seers in such cases?’ You do 
not wear a plaid, George, but suppose you try the ex- 
periment of turning your coat inside out.” 

“ Really, Harrington,” said Fellowes, with becoming 
solemnity, “ ‘insight’ is far too serious a subject to joke 
upon.” | 

“ Why, my dear fellow,” said the other, “ you do not 
think Iam going to treat your ‘insight’ with more re- 
spect than we treat the Bible.” 

“ Odi profanum,’ said Fellowes, almost angrily. 

“No man hateth his own flesh,” said Harrington, 
with provoking quiet; “and that, Iam sure, is from no 
profane writer. As to the ‘ odi profanum, why, I shall 
simply say, that 

‘You can quote it, 
With as much truth as he who wrote it?” 

So saying, he left the room. I was not sorry that he 
was gone, as I thought perhaps Fellowes might be more 


A FUTURE LIFE. O81 


communicative. Tasked him why he felt Mr. New- 
man’s arguments on this subject unsatisfactory ; why 
he could not acquiesce in them. 

“In the first place, then,” said he, “ I was struck with 
the fact, that, while admitting that he had no ‘ spiritual 
insight’ on the subject of a future life, he yet admits 
that others may have enjoyed what is impossible to 
him; that there may be souls favored with this ‘ vision,’ 
though clouds obscure his own. It is true he has ad- 
mitted (and indeed who can deny it?) that the spirit- 
ual faculty is not equally developed in all men;— 
though, as it is not, I feel some difficulty in rejecting 
the arguments hence arising for the possibility and 
utility of an external revelation ;— yet at the best, if 
the faculty may be so uncertain in reference to so im- 
portant a question, when consulted by so diligent and 
deep a student of its oracles as Mr. Newman, if even 
his soul may be dubious on such a_ point, — why, 
upon my soul, I sometimes hardly know what to think. 
Again, Mr. Newman says, that some may have, as by 
special privilege from God, what is denied to him. 
Now really this looks a little too much like favoring 
the vulgar view of inspiration, nay, a sort of Calvin- 
istic ‘election’ in this matter; it seems to me to cast 
doubts both on the competency and the uniformity of 
the sublime ‘ spiritual faculty” even when most sedu- 
lously consulted.” 

“It does look a little like it,’ said I; “and what 
next ti | 

“ In the next place, I am free to confess, that, if I may 
be allowed to argue against such an authority e 

“OQ, remember, I pray, that you are of the school of 
free thought: do not Bibliolatrize.” 

“ To state my views freely then: I must say, that, if 
this suspected doctrine be noé one of the unsophisticated 


382 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


utterances of the spiritual nature of man, I am almost 
led to doubt whether the clearness with which the 
spiritualist ‘gazes’ on the rest may not possibly be an 
illusion. For if any truth would seem to be a dictate 
of nature, it is a sort of dim conviction or impression 
of a future state. We see it, in some shape or other, 
extensively believed by all nations, and forming a fea- 
ture of all systems of religion, however degraded they 
may be. Mr. W. J. Fox mentions it as one of those 
things which are certainly characteristic of the absolute 
religion ; so does Mr. Parker. Mr. Fox expressly affirms 
that the approximate universality of the belief justifies 
the application of his criterion for detecting the eter- 
nally ‘true’ under the Protean shapes of the ‘false’ in 
religion ; it is one of the points, he says, in which they 
are all agreed.” 

«“ Which,” said I, “if true, is perhaps the only point 
in which all religions are agreed, unless we aflirm that 
they have all recognized a Deity, because most of them 
have recognized thousands. Yet as men’s Gods have 
varied between the Infinite Creator and a monkey, so 
in relation to this article of a‘ future life, it must be 
confessed that there is a little difference between the 
Heaven of a Christian, the Paradise of a Mahometan, 
and the Valhalla of an ancient Goth. Still, as you 
say, it is true that, in some shape or other, nations have 
more distinctly recognized the idea of an after exist- 
ence, than any other assignable religious tenet.” 

‘¢ You know,” resumed Fellowes, “that in the draught 
of ‘natural religion’ given us by Lord Herbert, that 
writer particularly insists on this as one of the articles 
which nature itself teaches us, as amongst the ‘com- 
mon notions, a sentiment innate to the human mind. 
Now if such masters as Mr. Newman may be in doubt 
about our innate sentiments, truly I scarcely know what 
to think.” 


A FUTURE LIFE. 383 


“ You can easily decide,” said I, gravely, “ and decide 
infallibly.” 

“ How so?” 

“ Consult that spiritual faculty which Mr. Newman 
says you have as well as he or Lord Herbert. If your 
theory be true, how can there be any doubt as to your 
‘innate’ sentiments? If you say they are written in 
very small characters, and require to be magnified by 
somebody’s microscope, that, recollect, is tantamount to 
acknowledging the possible utility of an external reve- 
lation. But what next?” 

“ Well, then, if I must confess all the truth, I thought 
Mr. Newman hardly fair in his exhibition of Paul’s rea- 
soning on this matter. He, if you recollect, says that 
Paul seems to have rested the belief of Christ’s resur- 
rection very little upon evidence, which he received very 
credulously, upon very insufficient proof, and in a man- 
ner which would have moved the laughter of Paley; 
that, in short, he cared very little about the evidence, 
and arrived mainly at his convictions in virtue of his 
‘spiritual aspirations’; that it was rather his strong 
aspirations after immortality which made Paul believe 
the supposed fact, than the supposed fact which gave 
strength to his aspirations after immortality. Now it 
is very clear (from texts which, for whatsoever reasons, 
are not quoted by Mr. Newman), that the Apostle Paul 
made his whole argument depend on the alleged fact of 
Christ’s resurrection, whether carelessly received or not: 
‘If Christ be not risen, then is your faith vain, and our 
preaching is also vain. ..... Then are we of all men 
most miserable.’ ” 

“ But you recollect that Mr. Newman alleges that 
Paul deals very superficially with the evidence, — with 
that of the ‘five hundred, for example. He observes 
that Paley would have made a widely different matter 
eb ite’ 


364 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“See how variously men may argue,” replied Fel- 
lowes, candidly. “I was talking on that very point 
with one of the orthodox the other day, and he reasoned 
in some such way as this: — 

“ On the supposition, he said, that the possession of 
miraculous powers was notorious in the Church, — that 
many of those whom Paul addressed had actually wit- 
~ nessed them, — that the Gospel, when preached by him 
and by the other Apostles, was confirmed by ‘ signs and 
wonders,’ — nothing could be more natural than the 
very tone which the Apostles employed: that, so far 
from its being suspicious, it was one of the truest 
touches of nature and verisimilitude in their composi- 
tions; so much so, that, supposing there were no mira- 
cles, that very tone required itself to be accounted for 
as unnatural; he said that it is, in fact, just the way in 
which men talk and write of any other extraordinary 
events which notoriously happened in their time. They 
never think of posterity, and what i¢ may think ; of an- 
ticipating either future doubts or charges of fraud. It 
is natural that men should speak in this, as we should 
call it, Joose way, of what is transpiring under their very 
noses. If, on the other hand, there had been no mira- 
cles to appeal to, so as to render this style as natural 
as, on the contrary supposition, it was the reverse, he 
could not, he said, imagine, that, in that or any other 
age, any men, especially men opposed to such preten- 
sions, would so easily have been satisfied, even had the 
Apostles confined themselves to rumors of alleged dis- 
tant miracles; but much less where similar wonders 
were said to have been brought under the eyes of the 
very parties to whom the appeal was made! He said 
he would even go a step further, and affirm that, under 
the circumstances of the professed notoriety of the mi- 
raculous occurrences to which Paul and the other Apos- 


A FUTURE LIFE. 385 


des appealed, any declaration that they had instituted 
that careful scrutiny of evidence, that minute circum- 
stantial cross-examination of the witnesses, — which 
would be a course all very well in the days of Paley, 
eighteen hundred years after, but absolutely preposter- 
ous then, — would have appeared to our age a much 
more suspicious thing than the tone actually adopted ; 
that the scrupulous deposition of technical proof would 
have been finessing too much, and would have been the 
strongest proof of collusion. ‘The very tone objected 
to, he said, supposing there were no miracles, is one of 
the most striking proofs of the astonishing sagacity of 
these men; for it is just the tone they would have used 
if there had been. So differently may men reason from 
the same data!» Whether (he concluded) Mr. New- 
man’s view of the facts, or his, was founded on a deeper 
and more comprehensive knowledge of human nature, 
he must leave to my judgment.” 

“JT protest,” said I, “I think the orthodox had the 
best of it. But what struck you next as unaccount- 
able in Mr. Newman’s view of this subject of a future 
life.2.? 

“TI confess, then, that the reasoning by which he 
endeavors to show that, even admitting the fact of 
Christ’s resurrection, there could be nothing in it to 
warrant the expectation of the resurrection of any other 
human beings, simply because he must have differed so 
stupendously from all the rest of mankind, appears to 
me very damaging tous. Of what use is it, to argue 
upon such an hypothesis ?” 

“ Of none in the world, certainly,” said I, laughing. 

“ Surely not,” he replied; “for if Christ’s resurrec- 
tion be admitted, we know very well it will carry with 
it, in the estimation of the bulk of mankind, all the other 


great facts implicated with the Christian system. They 


386 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


will concede, at once, the supernatural character, the 
divine origin, of the New Testament. I suppose there 
scarcely ever was a man who admitted these premises 
who would trouble himself to contest the conclusion.” 

“ But seriously,” continued this half-repentant ad- 
mirer, almost frightened at the extent of his own free- 
dom of thought, “though I cannot say I am satisfied 
with Mr. Newman’s notions on this subject, — and, in 
fact, cannot make up my mind upon it, —can there be 
any thing morally more sublime. than the view, that 
the doctrine of immortality, which has been superficially 
supposed, if not necessary, yet so conducive to sincere 
and elevated piety, may be readily dispensed with, as 
no way necessary (as Mr. Newman feels) for the spir- 
itual nourishment of the soul? ‘¢ Confidence, he says, 
‘there is none; and hopeful aspiration is the soul’s 
highest state. But, then, there is herein nothing what- 
ever to distress her; no cloud of grief crosses the area 
of her vision, as she gazes upwards.’ He even intimates 
that, from the stress laid upon immortality by ‘modern 
divines,’ they might seem to be ‘ incarnations of selfish- 
ness. He says it tends to ‘degrade religion into a 
prudential regard for our interests after death’; that 
‘conscience, the love of virtue, for its own sake, and 
much more the love of God, are ignored.’ Many of 
the ‘spiritual’ school agree with him in this; and some 
even affirm that the hope of immortal felicity is but a 
bribe to selfishness. Can any thing be more elevated 
or original than ¢his view ?” 

“ As to the elevation,’ said I, “I confess I prefer 
the spectacle of Socrates, relying even on feeble argu- 
ments rather than sink to this tame acquiescence in a 
notion so degrading to the Deity, as that man was 
created for a dog’s life with the tormenting aspiration 
for something better. The spectacle of the heatlien 


\ 


eT 


A FUTURE LIFE. 387 


sage, who, amidst the ihick gloom, the ‘ palpable ob- 
scure, which involved this subject, gazed intently into 
the darkness, and ‘longed for the day,’ —who strained 
every nerve of an insufficient logic, and was willing to 
take even the whispers of hope for the oracles of truth, 
rather than part with the prospect of immortality, — is, 
to my mind, much more attractive. As to the original- 
ity of the view you just expressed, why, it is merely a 
resurrection of one of the theories of some of our very 
‘spiritual deists’ a century ago. Collins and Shaftes- 
bury were, in like manner, apprehensive lest an elevated 
‘virtue’ should suffer at all from this bribery of a hope 
of a ‘blessed immortality’; as you may see in the 
Charaeteristics. For my own part, I certainly have my 
doubts whether virtue will be the less virtuous, or 
spirituality the less spiritual, for such a doctrine; and I 
must believe it even on the hypothesis of you spiritual 
folks ; for you generally affirm that the Belief of a Fu- 
ture Life does not really exercise any thing more than 
-an insignificant influence on human nature; the hopes 
and the fears of that so distant a morrow are too vague 
to be operative. Now, if it be so, immortality can be 
no more a bribe than a menace.” 

“ Yet,” said Fellowes, “in justice to Mr. Newman, it 
must not be forgotten, that he thinks that ‘a firm belief 
of immortality must have very energetic force, provid- 
ed it ‘rises out of insight’ ; it is as ‘an external dogma’ 
that he thinks it of little eflicacy. He says, you know, 
that, supposing Paul to have had this insight, ‘ his light 
can do us no good, while it is a light oulside of us If 
he in any way confused the conclusious of his loie 
(which is often extremely inconsequent and mistaken) 
with the perceptions of his divinely illuminated soul, our 
belief might prove baseless.’* These are his very words.” 


* Soul, pp. 226, 227. 


388 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITII. 


« Very well, then; say that Mr. Newman thinks the 
notions of a future hell of little efficacy ; and of a future 
heaven of as little, except when it rises from ‘insight’ ; 
—he confessing that be has not that ‘insight,’ and, 
from the necessity of the case, not knowing whether 
any body else has, it being a ‘light outside him’ If so, 
I think he is much like the rest of you, and cannot in’ 
fact suppose the thought of a future life to operate 
strongly either as a bribe or a menace.” 

“But surely, whatever his views, or those of any 
individual, you must admit that a piety which is sus- 
tained without any hopes of immortality is less selfish 
than that which is.” 

“ Why,” replied I, laughing ; “ J cannot conceive how 
‘the hope of a virtuous immortality can produce a vi- 
cious self-love. But if the hope and the consciousness 
of happiness now exercise any influence at all, your ar- 
gument proves too much; and there is a simple impas- 
sibility of being unselfishly religious at all.” 

“ How so?” 

“ Do you think that, admitting not only the uncer- 
tainty of any future life, but the certainty that there 
is none, and that nevertheless (as you affirm) man, 
under that conviction, is just as capable of manifesting 
a true devotion and piety towards God, any felicity 
flows from his so doing ?” 

“The highest, of course,” said he. 

“Do you think that the happiness so derived and 
expected from day to day has any sinister influence on 
the spiritual life of him who feels it?” 

“ Of course, none.” 

“ The contrary, perhaps ?” 

“ T think so.” 

“ Then neither need the expectation of an edernity of 
such blessedness be any impediment. Again; let us 


A- FUTURE LIFE. 389 


come to facts; are not the declarations of those whom 
Mr. Newman, however oddly, 1s willing to admit have 
been the best specimens yet afforded of his true ‘spir- 
itual’ man, — the Doddridges, the Fletchers, the Bax- 
ters, and Paul especially,—full of this sentiment? ‘1 
desire to depart, says Paul, ‘and to be with Christ, 
which is far better’; and similar selfish hopes inspired 
those excellent men whose names still rise spontane- 
ously to Mr. Newman’s memory when he would re- 
mind us of examples of his ‘spiritual religion! ‘Tell 
me, do you not think Paul a ‘ spiritual’ man?” 

“ Yes; with all his blunders,” said Fellowes, “ I do; 
and Mr. Newman’s writings are full of that admission.” 

“ Very true. But then Paul is so se//fish, you know, 
as to say, not merely that the immortality of man is 
true, and that the ‘light afflictions which are but for a 
moment’ are to be despised, because unworthy ‘to be 
compared with the glory to be revealed’; but that, if 
immortality be not true, Christians, as deluded in such 
hopes, are of all men most miserable. All this shows 
how powerfully the ‘spiritual’ Paul thought that the 
doctrine of a future state operated and ought to operate 
on the mind of a Christian ; he never supposed that it 
could possibly have a negative, still less a sinister influ- 
ences 

“ But then, surely, what Mr. Newman says is true, 
that many of the saints of the Old Testament exempli- 
fied all the heroism of a true faith, and kindled with the 
ardors of a true devotion, in an ignorance of any such 
state, and the absence of all such expectations.” 

“ T answer, that Mr. Newman too often speaks as if 
his individual impressions were to be taken for demon- 
stration. ‘That the Old Testament is unpervaded by 
any distinct traces of expectations of a future life is, at 


all events, not the opinion of the majority of men, many 
: 33 * 


390 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


of them at least as capable of judging as Mr. Newman, 
It is not the opinion of the writers of the New 'Testa- 
ment, that the Old Testament worthies were in this 
deplorable darkness ; nor of the majority of the Jewish 
interpreters of their ancestors’ writings; nor is it the 
impression of the great majority of those who now read 
them. How it can be the opinion of any one who 
has not some hypothesis to serve, is to me a mystery. 
Meanwhile Mr. Newman himself at least gives some 
notable passages to the contrary, though he chooses to 
call them only personal aspirations. ‘Think of the ab- 
surdity, my good friend, of supposing that Job, David, 
Isaiah, failed to realize a doctrine (imperfectly it may 
be) which, as you truly affirm, has, in some shape or 
other, animated all forms of religion! that these bright- 
est specimens of ‘ spiritual religion’ in the ancient world 
somehow missed what many of the lowest savages have 
managed to stumble upon!” 

“« Well,” he replied, “but, after all, he who loves God 
without any thought of heaven must surely be more 
unselfish than he who hopes for it.” 

I laughed, — for I could not help it. 

“ Unhappy Paul!” interjected Harrington, who had 
again entered the library; “unhappy Paul! burdened 
with the hopes of immortality; what an impediment 
he must have found it in his Christian course! I won- 
der he did not throw aside ‘ this weight, which so easily 
beset him’ Pity that when he became a Christian, 
and ceased to be a Pharisee, he did not, like so many 
‘spiritual’ Christians of our day, know that, when he 
became a Christian, he might still remain in one of the 
Jewish sects, and turn Sadducee.” 

“ Be it so,” said Fellowes, “a Christian Sadducee, 
ceteris paribus, might perhaps be a more virtuous man, 


having no hopes of heaven by which he can possibly be 
bribed.” 


A FUTURE LIFE. 391 


“ Religious love and hope,” said J, “will with difh- 
culty exist in such an atmosphere as you create. It is 
a sublime altitude, doubtless, but no ordinary ‘ spiritual’ 
beings can breathe that rarefied air. It is for the honor 
of Shaftesbury and some few other Deists, that they as- 
pired to this transcendental virtue! You are imitating 
them. I fear you will not be more successful. Once 
leave a man to conclude, or even to suspect, that he 
and his cat end together, and, if a bad man, he will 
gladly accept a release from every claim but that of his 
passions and appetites (the effects being more or less 
philosophically calculated according to his intellectual 
power) ; while the best man would be liable to contem- 
plate God and religion with a depressed and faltering 
heart. He would be apt to lose all energy; he would 
feel it impossible to repress doubts of the infinite wis- 
dom and benignity of Him (whatever he might think 
of His power) who had given him the soul of a man 
and the life of a butterfly; conceptions and aspirations 
so totally disproportioned to the evanescence of his 
being! If, however, you really think that the hopes 
of an immortality of virtuous happiness will stand in 
the way of a sublime disinterestedness of spirituality, 
you ought to recollect that any expectation of happi- 
ness, even for a day, will, in its measure, have the same 
effect. So that the only way in which you can accom- 
modate so ‘ spiritual a piety,’ and absolutely insure your- 
self against ‘spiritual bribery,’ is to deprive yourself of 
all possibility of being so misled. If your piety would 
be absolutely sure that it loves God on these sublime 
terms, it should take care to neutralize the happiness 
which that love brings with it; so that, if God has not 
made you miserable, you should never fail, like the as- 
cetics, to make yourself so. J fear you never can be 
perfectly ‘spiritual’ till you bave made yourself su- 


392 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


premely wretched. But to quit this point,” I contin- 
ued; “if immortality be a delusion, I fear we must 
say that it covers the divine administration with an i1m- 
penetrable cloud, — one which we cannot hope will be 
removed. The inequalities of that administration can- 
not be redressed.” 

«But do you not recollect,” replied Fellowes, “ the 
reason Mr. Newman gives for despising any such miti- 
gation? Does he not say, that it is a strange argument 
for a day of recompense, that man has unsatisfied claims 
upon God? He says, ‘ Christians have added an argu- 
ment of their own for a future state, but, unfortunately, 
one that cannot bring personal comfort or assurance. 
A future state (it seems) is requisite to redress the in- 
equalities of this life. And can I go to the Supreme 
Judge, and tell Him that I deserve more happiness than 
He has granted me in this life?’ Do you not recollect 
this ?— or has this sarcasm escaped you?” 

“Tt has not escaped me, — I remember it well; but 
it seems to have escaped you, that it is a very transpar- 
ent sophism. For what is it but a pretence that the 
Christian in general is confident enough of his virtue 
to think that he has not been sufficiently well treated, 
and that his Creator and Judge cannot do less than 
make amends for his injustice, by giving him compen- 
sation in another world?” 

“ And is not'that the true statement of the case?” 

“ ] imagine not; whether men be Christians or other- 
wise. The generality, when they reason upon this sub- 
ject, (you and I, for example, at this very moment,) are 
not at all considering the aspect of such a day upon 
themselves; how much they will dose if there be none; 
perhaps the bulk would wish that it could be proved 
that it would never come! It has been from a wish to 
escape great speculative perplexities, connected with 


A FUTURE LIFE. 393 


the divine administration, and not in relation to man’s 
deserts, that the question has been argued. When dic- 
tated by other feelings, the conviction of a future state 
has been quite as generally the utterance of remorse 
and fear, the response of an accusing conscience, as of 
hope and aspiration; and derives, perhaps, a terrible 
significance from that circumstance. But it has cer- 
tainly not been, in the Christian, the result of any ab- 
surd expectation of virtues to be rewarded, or rights to 
be redressed. As to the Christian, though he feels that 
he would not, and dare not, go to the divine tribunal 
with any such absurd plea as Mr. Newman is pleased 
to put into his mouth,—though he cannot impeach 
the divine goodness, — he none the less feels that that 
goodness, if this scene be all, is open to very grievous 
impeachment in relation to millions who have suffered 
much, and done no wrong, and to multitudes more who 
have inflicted infinite wrong, and suffered next to noth- 
ing; and they would fain, if they could, get over difh- 
culties which Mr. Newman chooses, from the mere exi- 
gencies of his theology, to represent as no difficulties 
atall. ‘To escape them or to solve them is the thing 
principally in the minds of those who contend for a day 
of recompense; not the imaginary compensation of in- 
dividual wrongs. I do contend that, if this world be 
all, the divine administration in many points is more 
hopelessly opposed to our moral instincts, and to all our 
notions of equity and benevolence, than any thing on 
which you spiritualists are accustomed to justify your 
censure of Scripture. You ought, as Harrington says, 
to go further.” 


July 30. I was much interested yesterday morning 
by a conversation between Harrington and two pleasant 


394 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


youths, acquaintances of Mr. Fellowes, both younger by 
three or four years than either he or Harrington. They 
are now at college, and have imbibed in different de- 
grees that curious theory which, professedly recognizing 
Christianity (as consigned to the New Testament) as a 
truly divine revelation, yet asserts that it is intermingled 
with a large amount of error and absurdity, and tells 
each man to eliminate the divine ‘element’ for himself. 
According to this theory, the problem of eliciting re- 
vealed truth may be said to be indeterminate ; the value 
of the unknown 2 varies through all degrees of magni- 
tude; it is equal to any thing, equal to every thing, 
equal to nothing, equal to infinity. 

The whole party thought, with the exception of Har- 
rington, who knew not what to think, that the “relig- 
ious faculty or faculties ” (one or many, — no man seems 
to know exactly) are quite sufficient to decide all doubts 
and difficulties in religious matters. : 

Harrington knew not whether to say there was any 
truth in Christianity or not; Fellowes knew that there 
was none, except in that “religious element,” which is 
found alike essentially in all religions; that its miracles, 
its inspiration, its peculiar doctrines, are totally false. 

The young gentlemen just referred to believed “ that 
it might be admitted that an external revelation was 
possible,” and “that the condition of man, considering 
the aspects of his history, has not been altogether so 
felicitous as to show that he never needed, and might 
not be benefited, by such light.” I could cordially agree 
with them so far; superabundance of religious illumi- 
nation not being amongst the things of which human- 
ity can legitimately complain. 

But then, as they both believed that each man was 
to distil the “ elixir vite” for himself from the crude 
mass of truth and falsehood which the New Testament 


A VARIABLE QUANTITY. 395 


presents, Harrington, with his interrogations, soon com- 
pelled them to see how inconsistent they were both with 
themselves and with one another. One of them be- 
lieved, he said, that the Apostles might have been 
favored by a true revelation; but not in such a sense 
“as to prevent their often falling into serious errors,” 
wherever the distinctly “religious element” was not con- 
cerned; this was the only truly “divine” thing about 
it; but he saw no particular objection to receiving the 
miracles; at least some of them, —the best authenti- 
cated and most reasonable; perhaps they were of value 
as part of the complex evidence needful to establish 
doctrines which, if not absolutely transcendental to the 
human faculties, —as the doctrine of a future life, for 
example, — yet, apart from revelation, are but matter of 
conjecture.” 

The other was also not unwilling to admit the mi- 
raculous and inspired character of ‘the revelation, but 
contended, further, that the “religious element” was to 
be Bubcutted to human siti Polene as well as the rest; 
and that, if apparently absurd, contradictory, or perni- 
cious, as judged by that infallible and ultimate standard, 
it was to be rejected. 

It was amusing to think that, in this little company 
of three devout pegevars in the “ internal oracle,” no 
two thought alike! After the two youths had frankly 
stated their opinions, Harrington quietly said, “ I should 
much like to ask each of you a few questions. There 
are certain difficulties connected with each hypothesis 
just stated, on which I should be glad to receive some 
light. I frankly confess beforehand, however, that I fear 
that that curiously constructed book, which gives us all 
so much trouble, — which will not allow me to say pos- 
itively either that it is true or false, — will still less per- 
mit you to reject a part or parts at your pleasure. It is, 


396 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


I must admit, a most independent book in that respect, 
and treats your spiritual illumination most cavalierly. 
It says to you, “ Receive me altogether, or reject me al- 
together, just as you please”; and when men have re- 
jected it altogether, it leaves them certain literary and 
historical, and moral problems, in all fairness demand- 
ing solution, which I doubt whether it is in our power 
to solve, or to give any decent account of.” 

“ What do you mean,” said the younger of the two 
youths, “ by affirming that we are compelled to receive 
the whole book, or to reject it all?” 

“ Let us see,” said Harrington, “whether there is 
any consistent stopping-place between. It appears to 
me, that, whether by the most singular series of ‘ coin- 
cidences, or by immense subtlety of design, this book, 
evidently composed by different hands, has yet its ma- 
_ terials so interwoven, and its parts so reciprocally de- 
pendent, that it is impossible to separate them, —to set 
some aside, and say, ‘ We will accept these, and reject 
those’: just as, in certain textures, no sooner do we 
begin to take out a particular thread, than we find it is 
inextricably entangled with others, and those again with 
others; so that there immediately takes place a prodi- 
gious ‘gathering’ at that point, and if we persevere, a 
rent; but the obstinate part at which we tug will not 
come away alone. Whether it is so or not, we shall 
soon see, by examining the results of the application of 
your theories. J will begin with you,” (addressing the 
younger,) “ because you believe least; you say, I think, 
that you admit the records of the New Testament con- 
tain a real revelation, —a religious element, — and that 
it has been authenticated to you by miracles and other 
evidence; but that the human mind is still the judge of 
how much of that revelation is to be received, ‘and sits 
in judgment’ on the ‘religious element as well as the 
rest. ” 


A VARIABLE QUANTITY. 397 


The other assented. 

“ You admit, probably, the doctrine of the soul’s im- 
mortality as a part of that revelation, — perhaps even 
the doctrine of a resurrection ?” 

«“ T do, — both these doctrines.” 

“ But perhaps you reject the idea of an ‘atonement,’ 
though you admit it to be in the Book?” 

“Yes. At the same time it is contended by many 
(as you are aware) that such a doctrine is not there.” 

“Tam aware of it, of course; but with them we have 
no controversy here. They are consistent, so far as the 
present argument goes; as consistent as the orthodox 
themselves. They do not allege a liberty of rejecting 
what they admit the book does contain, but only deny 
that it does contain some things which they reject. 
They would admit that, if/those doctrines be there, then 
either they must concede them because authenticated 
by the miracles and other evidence, which proves what 
else they concede, or they must reject the said evidence 
altogether, because it authenticated what they found it 
impossible to concede. The controversy between them 
and the orthodox is one of interpretation, and is quite 
different from that in which we are now engaged.” 

“7 must admit it.” 

_« They may go, then?” said Harrington. 

“They may.” 

« You admit, then, the miraculous authentication of 
such an event as the resurrection of man, but deny the 
doctrine of the atonement, though equally found in the 
said records ?” 

cdo. 

“ May I ask why?” 

“ Because the one doctrine does not seem to me to 
contradict my ‘spiritual consciousness, and the other 


does.” 
34 


398 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


«“ You receive the one, I suppose you will say, on 
account of the miracles, and so on; since, while not 
contradicting your impressions of spiritual truth, it 
could not be authenticated without external evidence ?” 

“ Exactly so.” : 

“ But is not the other doctrine as much authenticated 
by the miracles and so forth? or have you any thing to 
show that, while all those passages which relate to the 
former are true assertions, as well as druly the assertions 
of those who published the revelation, those which re- 
late to the latter are not ?” ’ 

“ T acknowledge I have not,” replied the youth. 

« Or supposing they are not their sayings at all, have 
you any evidence by which you can show that they 
are not, so as to separate them from those that are?” 

“ J must admit that I have no criterion of this kind.” 

“ For aught you know, then, since you know nothing 
of Christianity except from those documents in which 
the miracles and the doctrines are alike consigned to 
you, the said miracles, together with the other evidence, 
do equally establish the truths which you say are a part 
of divine revelation, and the errors which you say your 
‘spiritual faculty, ‘moral intuitions,’ or what you will; 
tells you that you are to reject. You believe, then, in 
the force of evidence, which equally establishes truth 
and falsenood ?” 

“ You can hardly expect me to admit that.” 

“ But I expect you to answer a plain question?” 

“ Why,” said the youth, with a little flippancy, but 
with a good-humored laugh too, “the proverb says, 
‘Even a fool may ask questions which a wise man can- 
not answer.’ ” : 

“ T acknowledge myself to be a fool” said Harring- 
ton, with a half serious, half comic air; “ and you shall 
be the wise man who does not—for I will not say 
cannot — answer the fool’s question.” 


A VARIABLE QUANTITY. 399 


“TI beg your pardon,” said the other. “I acknowl- 
edge that it was an uncourteous expression.” 

“ Hnough said,” replied Harrington ; “ and now, since 
you are not pleased to answer my question, I will an- 
swer it myself; and I say, it is plain that the evidence 
te which you refer does aflirm equally the truths you 
declare thus revealed to you, and the errors you declare 
you must reject. Now either the evidence is not suffi- 
cient to prove the one, or it is sufficient to prove both. 
So far, then, I think we may say, and say justly, that 
the supposed revelation is so constructed that you can- 
not accept a part and reject a part, on such a theory. 
But to make the case a little plainer still, if possible. 
There have been men, you know, who have taken pre- 
cisely opposite views of the two doctrines you have 
mentioned ; who have declared that the doctrine, not 
of man’s immortality, but of the resurrection, so far 
from being conceivable, is, in their judgment, a physi- 
’ eal contradiction ; but who have also declared that the 
doctrine of atonement, in some shape, is instinctively 
taught by human nature, and has consequently foimed 
a part of almost every religion; that it is in analogy 
with many singular facts of this world’s constitution, 
and is not absolutely contradicted by any principle of 
our nature, intellectual or moral. Such a man, there- 
fore, might take the very opposite of the course you 
have taken. He would proceed upon your common 
basis of a miraculously confirmed revelation, grossly 
_ infested with errors and falsehoods; he might say that 
he believed the authentication of the doctrine of ‘ atone- 
ment’ in virtue of the evidence, because, though tran- 
scendental to his reason, it was not repugnant to it; 
but that he rejected the doctrine of the ‘resurrection, 
though equally established by the evidence, because 
contrary to the plainest conclusions of his reason.” 


400 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“ T cannot in candor deny,” said the other, “the pos- 
sibility of such a case.” 

“ And in such a case, we might say, he does the very 
opposite of what you do.” 

“ Neither can I help admitting that.” 

“The miracles, then, and other evidence, not only 
play the part of equally supporting truth and falsehood, 
but, what is still more wonderful, convert the same 
things, in different men, into truth and falsehood alter- 
nately. Miracles they must verily be if they can do 
that! A wonderful revelation it certainly is, which 
thus accommodates itself to the varying conditions of 
the human intellect and conscience, and demonstrates 
just so much as each of you is pleased to accept, and 
no more. No doubt the whole ‘corpus dogmatum, so 
supported, will, by the entire body of such believers, be 
eaten up; just as was the Mahometan hog, so humor- 
ously referred to by Cowper; but even that had not all 
its ‘forbidden parts’ miraculously shown to be ‘ unfor- 
bidden’ to different minds! I do not wonder that such 
a revelation should need miracles; that any should be 
sufficient, is the greatest wonder ‘9 all; if indeed we 
except two;—the first, that Supreme Wastin should 
have constructed such a curious revelation, in which he 
has revealed alternately, to different people, truth and 
falsehood, and has established each on the very same 
evidence; and the second (almost as great), that any 
rational creature should be got to receive such a reve- 
lation on such evidence as equally applies to points 
which he says it does not prove, and to points which 
he says it does; these points, however, being, it ap- 
pears, totally different in different men! But I will 
now go to your friend, who has got a point further in 
his bance and graciously accepts all the ‘religious ele- 
ments’ in this revelation.” 


A VARIABLE QUANTITY. 401 


“ Excuse me,” said the last; “before you go to him, 
permit me to mention a difficulty which occurred to me 
while we were speaking.” 

“By all means; but I do not promise to solve it. 
Perhaps I on this occasion shall prove the ‘wise man,’ 
though I am sure you will not be the fool.” 

“ You recollect,” said the other, blushing, “our dis- 
missing those who, while contending, like myself, that 
such and such doctrines are to be rejected, differ from 
me in this, that they contend that the said doctrines are 
not contained in the records of the supposed revelation 
at all; while others contend that they are. Now, if, 
while the two parties admit the general evidence which 
is to substantiate all that is in the records, they arrive 
by different interpretation at such very diflerent results 
as to the supposed truth which it supports, are they in 
any better condition than I? There is the same differ- 
ence, though arrived at in different ways; and the reve- 
lation still remains indeterminate.” 

“ Your objection is ingenious,” replied Harrington. 
“ First, however, it is rather hard to ask me to solve a 
difheulty with which I am in no way concerned, who 
profess to be altogether sceptical on the subject. Sec- 
ondly, it certainly does not at all mend your case to 
prove that there are other men who possibly are as in- 
consistent as yourself. It makes your theory neither 
better nor worse. But, thirdly, if I were a Christian, I 
should not hesitate to contend that there was an ob- 
vious and vital difference in the two cases.” 

“Indeed! If you can show that.” 

“J should attempt it, at all events. I should say that 
in the latter case the evidence to which the appeal was 
made did not equally serve to establish truth and false- 
hood, or, what is still worse, alternately to make false- 


hood truth, and truth falsehood, to different minds ; that 
34 * 


402 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


it was designed to establish all that was really in the 
records, though what that all was might give rise to 
different views, from the prejudices and the ignorance, 
the different degrees of intelligence and candor, on the 
part of those who interpreted the records; that they 
made the falsehoods, and not the records or the evi- 
dence. I should, therefore, have no difficulty in rela- 
tion to what, on your theory, is so incomprehensible ; 
namely, that God should have given man so peculiarly 
constructed a revelation. That men should differ or 
err in its interpretation is not, I presume, very wonder- 
ful, because man, they say, is a creature of prejudice 
and passion as well as reason.” 

“ But God would still have given the revelation, and 
yet it is capable, it appears, of being variously inter- 
preted!” said the other. 

«“ Very true, and it is very plain to me that, supposing 
him to have given any, he could have given no other, 
unless his omnipotence had been immediately exerted 
separately upon each individual of the human race, and 
then in such a way as to supersede all the moral dis- 
cipline which Christians affirm is involved in its recep- 
tion. Supposing this discipline (as those who believe 
in a revelation contend) to be an essential condition, I 
cannot conceive God himself to give a document which 
man’s ingenuity cannot easily misinterpret. You see 
man plays the same trick equally well with that faculty 
of ‘spiritual insight’ which some say is the sole source 
of religious truth, and which you say is the sole arbiter 
of an external revelation! We cannot find two of you 
who think alike, or who will give us the same transcript 
of religious truth. Similarly, we see the same inge- 
nuity manifested by man whenever it is his interest to 
find ina document a different meaning from that which 
it apparently carries on its face. Does not the endless 


A VARIABLE QUANTITY. 403 


controversy, the perpetual litigation of men, respecting 
the meaning of seemingly the plainest documents, assure 
us that, if a revelation were really given, the like would 
be possible with that? It is doubtful with me, there- 
fore, whether God himself could give a revelation, such 
that men could not misrepresent and pervert it; that is, 
as long as they were rational creatures,” he continued 
bitterly. “But the mischief of your theory is, that it 
charges the inevitable result of man’s perverseness or 
ignorance on God, and the revelation he has been sup- 
posed to construct, and that is to me an absurdity.” 

“T do not see that these answers are satisfactory,” 
said the other. 

“T must leave you to judge of that,” said Harrington, 
“or to contest it with my uncle here. I am keeping 
-my next friend waiting, who, I can see, is impatient to 
run a course in favor of his view of revelation. He tells 
us, too, that a divine revelation, as conveyed in-the New 
Testament, is to be admitted, but he cannot away with 
the notion that its certainty extends to any thing more 
than to what he calls the ‘religious element. Is not 
that your notion?” 

2h DEALER 

“ You think, for example, that it is possible that the 
Apostles and writers of the New Testament (in fact, 
whoever had the charge of recording and transmitting 
to posterity the doctrines of this revelation) were left 
liable, just as any other men, to all sorts of errors, geo- 
graphical, chronological, logical, historical, political, 
moral ? 

“ No, no, not moral,” said the other; “I did not say 
moral: their morality is implied in their theology.” 

“ OQ, very well! we shall better see that presently; 
only I have to remind you, for the glory of your Ration- 
alism, that other Rationalists make the errors extend 


AQ4 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


even to the ‘moral element’; but it is all one to me. 
You say, that, as far as regards every thing else, it is 
very possible that these ‘inspired’ men might err to 
any amount?” 

“ Yes; I believe it.” 

“ You have, doubtless, some reason for saying that 
they were made infallible in religion and morality, but 
liable to all sorts of errors on other subjects ?” 

“ Nothing but this; that, if to give us ‘spiritual truth’ 
(as is supposed) was their proper function (and we can- 
not but suppose that it was), they must have been in- 
vested (we must suppose) with all the necessary quali- 
ties for this end, since Iam supposing that even miracles 
were thought worth working in order to confirm their 
doctrine.” 

“ You use the word suppose rather frequently, my 
friend ; however, I will not quarrel with you for that; 
only you ought not to be surprised if, adopting your 
last supposition, — that, when miracles and inspiration 
have been supposed to be vouchsafed to authenticate a 
particular revelation, all such endowments, at least, will 
be granted as shall secure that object from defeat, — 
other Christians further suppose that the documents in 
which the revelation was to be consigned to all future 
ages would not be disfigured (and in many respects 
obscured) by the liability of their authors to all sorts of 
errors on an infinity of points, hopelessly entangled, as 
we shall soon see, with this one ! that when heaven was 
at the trouble to embark its cargo of diamonds and 
pearls for this world, it would not send them in a vessel 
with a great hole in the bottom! If the Apostles were 
plenarily inspired with regard to this one subject, men 
will think it strange, perhaps, that divine aid should 
not have gone a little further, and since the destined 
revelation was to be recorded or rather imbedded, in 


A VARIABLE QUANTITY. 405 


history, illustrated by imagination, enforced by argu- 
ment, and expressed in human language, — its authors 
should have been left liable to destroy the substance by 
egregious and perpetual blunders as to the form ; to run 
the chance of knocking ont the brains of the unfortu- 
nate revelation by upsetting the vehicle 1 in which it was 
to be conveyed!” 

“ But, then, these supposed endowments are purely a 
supposition on the part of Christians in general.” 

“ Just as yours, we may say, of an ademedtls wis- 
dom on one point is a supposition on your part. I 
think in that respect that you are both well matched. 
But I freely confess that I think their supposition more 
plausible than yours; and, if I were an advocate for 
Christianity, Ishould certainly rather suppose with them 
than suppose with you; that is, Ishould think it more 
credible, if God interposed with such stupendous in- 
struments as miracles, inspiration, and prophecy at all, 
he would endow the men thus favored (not with all 
knowledge, indeed, but) with whatever was necessary 
to prevent their encountering a certainty of vitiating 
their testimony.” 

“But how would their testimony be liable to be 
vitiated? Iam supposing them to be absolutely free 
from error as regards the religious element, which they 
deliver pure.” 

“ We shall see in a minute whether their testimony 
was liable to be vitiated or not, and whether the sepa- 
ration for which you contend be conceivable, or even 
possible. TI fear that you have no winnowing-fan which 
will separate the chaff from the wheat.” 

“To me, nothing seems more easy than the supposi- 
tion I have made.” 

“ Few things are more easy than to make supposi- 
tions; but let us see. I am sure you will answer as 


406 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


fairly as I shall ask questions. ‘To do otherwise would 
be to separate the ‘moral element’ from the ‘logicai, 
whatever the New Testament writers may have done. 
You believe, you say, in the resurrection of Christ?” 

Cuide:? 

“ As a fact or doctrine ?” 

“ Both as a fact and doctrine.” 

“ For it is both, if true,” said Harrington; “and so, 
I apprehend, it will be found with the other doctrines 
of Christianity. Whether, in your particular latitude 
of Rationalism, you believe many or few of them, still, 
if true at all (which we at present take for granted), 
they are both facts and doctrines, from the Incarnation 
to the Resurrection. But to confine ourselves to one, — 
that of the Resurrection, — for one will answer my pur- 
pose as well as a thousand; — that, you say, is a fact, 
—a fact of history ?” 

ab isl? 

“ Tt is, then, conveyed to us as such?” 

“ Certainly.” 

“Were the recorders of that fact liable to error in 
conveying it to us? In other words, might they so 
blunder in conveying that fact (as we know the unaided 
historian may, and often does) as to leave us in just 
doubt whether it ever took place or not?” 

“ Well,” said the youth, “and you know they have 
exhibited it in such a way as to suggest many apparent 
discrepancies, and those very difficult to be reconciled.” 

“Jam aware of it, and for that very reason selected 
this particular fact. In my judgment, there are no 
passages which more exercise the ingenuity of the har- 
monists than those which record the transactions con- 
nected with the resurrection. But still, in spite of 
them all, I presume that you do not think that those 
discrepancies really call the fact in question, else you 


A VARIABLE QUANTITY. 407 


would not continue to believe it. I should then sud- 
denly find myself arguing with a very different person.” 

“Certainly, you are quite right. I agree that the 
substantial facts are as the writers have delivered them; 
although they may, from their liability to error, have 
delivered some of the details erroneously.” 

“ But might this liability to error have led them a lit- 
tle further in their discrepancies, so as to involve the 
fact itself in just doubt, and so of other great facts 
which constitute the doctrines as well as the facts of 
Scripture ?” . 

“Of course, I think it might, since I suppose them 
unaided by any supernatural wisdom in this respect.” 

“The answer is honest. I thought, perhaps, you 
would have answered differently, in which case you 
would have given me the trouble of pursuing the argu- 
ment one step further. It appears, then, that, though 
inspired to give mankind a true statement of doctrines, 
yet that, when these doctrines assume the form of facts 
(which, unhappily, they do perpetually), this hazardous 
liability to error as historians may counteract their in- 
spiration, and they may give them in such a form as to 
throw upon them all manner of doubts and suspicions ; 
possibly they have done so, for aught you can tell. — 
But, again, you also affirm that these so-called inspired 
men were liable to make all sorts of logical blunders, 
just as the uninspired.” 

“Certainly; and I must confess I think the logic of 
the Apostle Paul, in particular, often exceedingly ab- 
surd.” 

“Very fair and candid. For example, I dare say 
that you do not think much of his arguments or infer- 
ences from certain doctrines; or his proofs of those doc- 
trines from the Old Testament or y 

“They are not, indeed, worth much in my estima- 
tion.” 


408 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“ Candid again; but then it is plain, first, that you 
will have to distinguish between the pure doctrines 
which Paul derived from a celestial source, and his 
erroneous proofs or inferences, which are delivered in 
precisely the same manner and with the same assump- 
tion of authority. And this, I think, would be an in- 
superable task; at least, it seems so, for you Rational- 
ists decide this matter very differently. When any of 
you favor me with your sketches of the true heaven- 
descended Pauline theology, I find them widely differ- 
ent from each other. Your ‘religious element’ is of the 
most variable volume. Some of you include nearly the 
whole creed of ordinary orthodoxy ; others, fifty or even 
eighty per cent. less, both in bulk and weight.” 

“ Perhaps so.” 

“ Perhaps so! But then, what becomes of your prin- 
ciple, that you may separate the pure ‘religious ele- 
ment, as conveyed to the minds of the sacred writers 
by direct illumination, from the errors of vicious logic 
which have been permitted to mingle with it? ‘To me, 
it appears any thing but easy to separate the functions 
of a revealer of truly inspired truth from the vitiating 
influences of a fallacious logic. The ‘ heavenly vision,’ 
however ‘ obedient’ a Paul may be to it, will be but 
obscurely represented, and suffer egregiously from that 
distorted image which the ill-constructed mirror will 
convey to us.-+ But once more, I think you do not hold 
Paul’s rhetoric to be always of the first excellence ?” 

“ Certainly not; I think his representations are often 
as faulty as his eine is vicious ; especially when, under 
the influence of his Jewish education, he throws old 
Gamaliel’s mantle over his shoulders, and dotes about 
‘allegories’ founded on the Old 'Testament.” 

s Fair and candid once more; but then, I suppose, 
you will admit that the divine truths which he was, 


A VARIABLE QUANTITY. 409 


nevertheless, commissioned to teach mankind, will, like 
any other truths, be much affected by the mode in 
which they are represented to the imagination; will 
become brighter or more obscure, more animated or 
more feeble, and even more just or distorted, as this 
task is wisely and judiciously, or preposterously per- 
formed ? ”’ 

“ No doubt.” 

“Then it appears, I think, that, if there were noth- 
ing to control the Apostle Paul’s manner of exhibiting 
divine verities, even in relation only to the imagina- 
tion, there might be all the difference between sober 
truth and fanatical perversions of it. I might, in the 
same manner, proceed to show that the feeling's, uncon- 
trolled by a superior influence, would be also likely to 
give distortion or exaggeration to the doctrines. But 
it is enough. It appears very plain, that, according to 
your hypothesis, even though the Apostles were com- 
missioned to teach by supernatural illumination certain 
truths, yet that, being liable to be infected with all the 
faults of false history, bad logic, vicious rhetoric, fa- 
natical feeling, these divine truths might, possibly, be 
most falsely presented to us. We have, really, no 
guaranty but your gratuitous ‘ supposition’ that they 
have been taught at all. We have no criterion for 
separating what is thus divine from what 1s merely 
human. I fear, therefore, your distinction will not hold. 
The stream, whatever the crystal purity of its fountain, 
could not fail to be horribly impure by the time it had 
flowed through such foul conduits.” 

“ In short,” continued Harrington, with a bitter smile 
at the same time, “there are but three consistent char- 
acters in the world; the Bible Christian, and the gen- 
uine Atheist, — or the absolute Sceptic.” 

“ No, —no,— no,” exclaimed the whole trio at once; 

83 


410 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“and you yourself must be true to your principles, and 
therefore sceptical as to this.” 

“Tt is,’ he replied, “one of the very few things 
which I am not sceptical about. At all events, right or 
wrong, I am, as usual, willing to give you my reasons 
for my belief.” | 

“ Rather say your doubts,” said Fellowes. 

“Well, for my doubts, then. You see, my friends, 
the matter is as follows. The Christian speaks on this 
wise : — | 

“¢ T find, in reference to Christianity as in reference 
to Theism, what appears to me an immense preponder- 
ance of evidence of various kinds in favor of its truth; 
but both alike I find involved in many difficulties 
which I acknowledge to be insurmountable, and in 
many mysteries which I cannot fathom. I believe the 
conclusions in spite of them. As to the revelation, I 
see some of its discrepancies are the effect of transcrip- 
tion and corruption; others are the result of omissions 
of one or more of the writers, which, if supplied, would 
show that they are apparent only; of others, I can 
suggest no explanations at all; and, over and above 
these, I see difficulties of doctrine which I can no 
more profess to solve than I can the parallel perplex- 
ities in Nature and Providence, and especially those 
involved in the permitted phenomenon of an infinity 
of physical and moral evil. As to these difficulties, I 
simply submit to them, because I think the rejection 
of the evidence for the truths which they embarrass 
would involve me in a much greater difficulty. With 
regard to many of the difficulties, in both cases, I see 
that the progress of knowledge and science is con- 
tinually tending to dissipate some, and to diminish, if 
not remove, the weight of others: I see that a dawning 
light now glimmers on many portians of the void where 


A VARIABLE QUANTITY. 411 


continuous darkness once reigned; though that very 
light has also a tendency to disclose other difficulties; 
for, as the sphere of knowledge increases, the outline of 
darkness beyond also increases, and increases even in a 
greater ratio. But I also find, I frankly admit, that on 
many of my difficulties, and especially that connected 
with the origin of evil, and other precisely analogous 
difficulties of Scripture, no light whatever is cast: to 
the solution of them, man has not made the slightest 
conceivable approximation. These things I submit to, 
as an exercise of my faith and a test of my docility, 
and that is all I have to say about them; you will not 
alter my views by dwelling on them, for your sense of 
them cannot be stronger than mine.” Thus speaks the 
Christian; and the Atheist and the Sceptic occupy 
ground as consistent. They say, ‘ We agree with you 
Christians, that the Bible contains no greater difficulties 
than those involved in the inscrutable “ constitution and 
course of nature”; but on the very principles on which 
the Rationalist, or Spiritualist, or Deist, or whatever he 
pleases to call himself, rejects the divine origin of the 
former, we are compelled to go a few steps further, and 
deny —or doubt—the divine origin of the latter. It 
is true that the Bible presents no greater difficulties 
than the external universe and its administration ; (it 
cannot involve greater;) but if those difficulties are 
sufficient to justify the denial or doubt of the divine 
authorship of the one, they are sufficient to justify de- 
nial or doubé about the divine origin of the other, - - 
But as to you, what consistent position can you take, 
so long as you affirm and deny so capriciously ? who 
‘strain at the gnats’ of the Bible, and ‘swallow the 
camels’ of your Natural Religion? You ought, on the 
principle on which you reject so much of the Bible, — 
namely, that it does not harmonize with the deductions 


412 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


of your intellect, the instincts of conscience, the intu- 
itions of the ‘ spiritual faculty,’ and Heaven knows what, 
— to become Manicheans at the least.” 

“ But these very arguments,” said one of the youths, 
“are just the old-fashioned arguments of Burier, which 
it is surely droll of all things to find a sceptic making 
use of.” 

“T admit they are his, my friend; but not that there 
is any inconsistency in my employing them. I affirm 
that Butler is quite right in his premises, though I may 
reject the conclusion to which he would bring me. He 
leaves two alternatives, and only two, in my judgment, 
open; leaves two parties untouched; one is the Chris- 
tian, and the other is the Atheist or the Sceptic, which- 
ever you please; but I am profoundly convinced he 
does not leave a consistent footing for any thing be 
tween. His fire does not injure the Christian, for it 
comes out of his own camp; nor me, for it falls short 
of my lines; but for you, who have pitched your tents 
between, take heed to yourselves. He proves clearly 
enough, that the very difficulties for which you reject 
Christianity exist equally, sometimes to a still greater 
amount, in the domain of nature.” 

“Oh!” said the youngest, “we do not think that 
Butler’s argument is sound.” 

“ Then,” said Harrington, “the sooner you refule it 
the better. All you have to do is, just to show that 
this world does not exhibit the inequalities, — the mis- 
eries, —the apparent caprice in its administration, — 
the involuntary ignorance, —the enormous wrongs, — 
the wide-spread sorrows and death,— it does. You 
will do greater service to the Deist than the whole of 
his tribe have ever done him yet. I am convinced that 
Butler is not to be refuted.” 

“ But do you not recollect what no less a man than 


A VARIABLE QUANTITY. 413 


Pitt said, —‘ Analogy is an argument so easily retort- 
ed!’” replied the same youth. 

“Then you will have the less difficulty in retorting 
it,’ said Harrington, coolly. “ Pitt’s observation only 
shows that he had forgotten the true object of the work, 
or never understood it. For the purposes of refutation, 
it does not follow that an analogy may be easily retort- 
ed; it may be, and often is, irresistible. It is when 
employed to establish a truth, not to expose an error, 
that it is often feeble. If Butler had attempted to 
prove that the inhabitants of Jupiter must be miserable, 
nothing could have been more ridiculous than to ad- 
duce the analogy of our planet. But if he merely 
wished to show that it did not follow that that beautiful 
orb, being created by itifinite power, wisdom, and good- 
ness, must be an abode of happiness, (just the Ration- 
alist style of reasoning,) it would be quite sufficient 
to introduce the speculator to this ill-starred planet of 
ours.” 

There are few who will not acquiesce in this remark 
of Harrington’s, however they may lament the alterna- 
tive he seemed disposed to take. Assuredly, for the 
specific object in view, no book written by man was 
ever more conclusive than that of Butler. For if you 
ean show to an. unbeliever in Christianity, who is yet 
(as most are) a Theist, that any objection derived from 
its apparent repugnance to wisdom or goodness applies 
equally to the “constitution and course of nature,” you 
do fairly compel him (as long as he remains a Theist) 
to admit that that objection ought not to have weight 
with him. He has indeed an alternative; that of 
Atheism or Scepticism; but it is clear he must give up 
either his argument or his — Theism. It may be called, 
indeed, an argument ad hominem ; but as almost every 


unbeliever in Christianity is a man of the above stamp, 
35 “ 


414 _ THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


it is of wide application. This is the fair issue to 
which Butler brings the argument; and the conclusive- 
ness of his logic has been shown in this, that, how- 
ever easily “analogies” may be “ retorted,” the parties 
affected by it- have never answered it. I was amused 
with the criticism with which Harrington wound up. 
“ Butler,” said he, “wrote but little; but when read- 
ing him, I have often thought of Walter Scott’s old 
wolf-dog Maida, who seldom was tempted to join in 
the bark of his lesser canine associates. ‘ He seldom 
opens his mouth, said his master; ‘but when he 
does, he shakes the Eildon Hills. Maida is lke the 
great gun at Constantinople, — it takes a long time to 
load it; but when it does go off, it goes off for some- 
thing !’” | 


Aug. 1. I this day put into Mr. Fellowes’s hands 
the brief notes on the three questions on which he had 
solicited my opinion. ‘They were as follows :— 

I. Mr. Newman says that it is an idle boast. that the 
elevation of woman is in any high degree attributable 
to the Gospel. “ In point of fact,” says he, “¢ Christian 
doctrine, as propounded by Paul, is not at all so hon- 
orable to woman as that which German soundness of 
heart has established. With Paul the sole reason for 
marriage is that a man may without sin vent his sen- 
sual desires.” 

If, indeed, there were no other passage in the New 
Testament than that to which Mr. Newman refers, there 
might be something to be said for him. But it is only 
one of many, and the question really at issue is conse- 
quently blinked, namely, What is the aspect of the entire 
New ‘Testament institute upon the relations of woman ? 
It is true, indeed, that the reason for marriage which 


DISCUSSION OF THREE QUESTIONS. 415 


Mr. Newman contends is the only thing Paul thought 
about, is very properly urged; for from the constitution 
of human nature, (as every comprehensive philosopher 
and legislator would admit,) as well as from the hor- 
rible condition of things where marriage is neglected, 
prominence is very justly given to the preservation of 
chastity as one of the primary objects of the institution. 
But the question as between Mr. Newman and Chris- 
tianity is this: Is this the only aspect under which the 
relations of man and woman are represented to us? 
That every thing is not said in one passage is true 
enough. From the desultory manner in which the 
ethics as well as doctrines of the New Testament are 
expounded to us, and especially from the casual form 
which they assume in the Apostolic Epistles, where the 
particular circumstances of the parties addressed natu- 
rally suggested the degree of prominence given to each 
topic, we must fairly examine the whole volume in or- 
der to comprehend the spirit of the whole, and not take 
up a solitary passage as though it were the only one. 
Now, if we examine other passages, we cannot tail to 
see that the New Testament consecrates married life by | 
enjoining the utmost purity, devotion, and tenderness 
of affection. Look at only one or two of the passages 
in which the New Testament enjoins the reciprocal du 
ties of husbands and wives; what sort of model it pro- 
poses for their love. ‘ Husbands, love your wives, even 
as Christ also loved the Church and gave himself for 
Wah? Let every one in particular so love his wife 
even as himself; and the wife see that she reverence 
her husband. So ought men to love their wives as 
their own bodies,.... giving honor unto the wife as 
unto the weaker vessel, and as being heirs together of 
the grace of life.” 

Is this like condemning women to be “elegant toys 
and voluptuous appendages ” ? 


416 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


Adinitting, for the sake of argument, that the whole 
of Christianity is a delusion; that Christ never lived, 
and therefore never died; that he is a more palpable 
myth than even Dr. Strauss contends for; still it is im- 
possible not to see that the writers of the New Testa- 
ment represent his love for man as the ideal of pure, 
disinterested, self-sacrificing affection; this appears 
whether we listen to the words which the Evangelists 
have put into his mouth, or those in which they have 
spoken of him. “Greater love hath no man than this, 
that a man lay down his life for his friends.” Now, let 
there be as much or as little historic truth in such state- 
ments, in the doings and sufferings of Christ on behalf 
of humanity, as you will, the conclusion is irresistible 
that his conduct (real or imaginary) is set forth as the 
exhibition of unequalled patience, gentleness, meek- 
ness, and forbearance; of a love anxious to purchase, 
at the dearest cost, the purest and highest happiness of 
its objects. Now such is the pattern of affection which 
the Apostles commend to the imitation of “ husbands 
and wives” in their conduct towards one another. 
Such is to be the lofty standard which their love is to 
emulate. Is it possible to go further? Does not the 
fantastical observance, or rather the absolute idolatry 
of women cherished by chivalry, —itself, however, 
rooted in the influences of a corrupt Christianity, — 
look like a caricature beside the picture? And who 
are the “ poets of Germanic culture” who have risen to 
an equal ideal of the reciprocal duties and sentiments 
of wedded life? I must contend that so beautiful a 
picture of a real equality between man and woman, — 
founded on the love of the common Lord of both, — 
such a picture of woman’s true elevation, was never 
realized in the ancient world, nor would have been to 
this day had not Christianity been promulgated; nor is 


DISCUSSION OF THREE QUESTIONS. 417 


now, except where Christianity is known, though, alas! 
not always where it is. But if you think otherwise, 
beg Mr. Newman to give you a catena of passages 
from the “poets of Germanic culture” (he has not ad- 
duced a syllable in proof); and recollect it ought to be 
from Germanic poets who lived before the Germans 
were Christians! Or perhaps you would wish to seek 
the Germanic “sentiment” towards woman pure in its 
source, as given in the certainly not unfavorable esti- 
mate of Tacitus. In their respect for woman and the 
stress they laid on chastity, the ancient Germans tran- 
scended without doubt many savages. Still, few read- 
ers will suppose there was much reason to boast of the 
elevation of women, or the presence of much refined 
“sentiment” between the sexes! As long as women 
do all the drudgery of house and field work, while their 
lazy husbands drink and gamble; as long as they are 
liable (and their children too) to be sold or put on the 
hazard of a cast of the dice; as long as they are them- 
selves ferocious enough to go out to battle with their 
husbands; I presume you will think the “Germanic 
culture” very far short of the “culture” likely to be 
produced by the New Testament! Well says Gibbon, 
“ Heroines of such a cast may claim admiration; but 
they were most assuredly neither lovely nor very sus- 
ceptible of love.” 

IJ. Mr. Newman says, that undue credit has been 
claimed for Christianity as the foe and extirpator of 
slavery. He says that, at this day, the “ New Testa- 
ment is the argumentative stronghold of those who are 
trying to keep up the accursed system.” Would it not 
have been candid to add, that the’ New Testament has 
ever been also the stronghold of those who oppose it, as 
well in this country asin America? It is on the express 
ground of its supposed inconsistency with the maxims 


418 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


and spirit of Christianity, that the great mass of Aboli- 
tionists hate and loathe it. A public clamor against it 
was never raised in the days of ancient slavery, nor is 
now in any country where Christianity is unknown. 
The oppositic.a to it in our own country was a religious 
one; that we snow full well; and so is the opposition 
of the American Abolitionists at the present day. If 
selfish cupidity, on the one hand, appeals to the New 
Testament for its continuance, so does philanthropy, on 
the other, for its abolition; and though in my judgment 
the inferences of the latter are far more reasonable, the 
mere fact that both parties appeal to the book shows 
that the New Testament neither sanctions it — rather 
the contrary by implication —nor expressly denounces 
it; Mr. Newman doubtless can do it safely. This 
very moderation of language, however, has to many 
minds, and those of no mean capacity, (the late Dr. 
Chalmers for example,) been regarded as an indication 
of the wisdom which has presided over the construction 
of the New Testament; it was not only a tone peremp- 
torily demanded by the necessary conditions of publish- 
ing Christianity at all, but was best adapted,—nay, 
aione adapted, — in the actual condition of the world 
in relation to slavery, to make any salutary impression. 

Admitting that the great, the primary end of the 
Gospel was spiritual; that it was the object of the 
Apostles to obtain for it a dispassionate hearing among 
all nations; and that, however they might hope indi- 
rectly to affect the temporal prosperity and _ political 
welfare of mankind, all good of this kind was in their 
view subordinate to that spiritual amelioration, which, 
if affected, would necessarily involve all inferior social 
and political improvements ;—I say, admitting this, it 
is really difficult to imagine any other course open to a 
wise choice thai. that which was actually adopted. I 


DISCUSSION OF THREE QUESTIONS. 419 


contend, that in not passionately denouncing slavery, 
and in contenting themselves with quietly depositing 
those principles and sentiments which, while achieving 
objects infinitely more important, would infallibly abol- 
ish it, the Apostles took the wisest course, even with 
relation to this latter object, — though it was doubtless 
not the course into which a blind fanaticism would 
have plunged. To enter upon an open crusade against 
slavery in that age would have been to render the 
preaching of the Gospel a simple impossibility, and to 
convert a professedly moral and spiritual institute into 
an engine of political agitation; it would have afforded 
the indignant governments of the world— quite prompt 
enough to charge it with seditious tendencies — a plau- 
sible pretext for its suppression. Both the primary and 
the secondary objects would have been sacrificed ; and 
the chains of slavery riveted, not relaxed. Slavery, in 
that age, we must recollect, was interwoven with the 
entire fabric of society in almost all nations. ‘To de- 
nounce it would have been a provocation, nay, a chal- 
lenge, to a servile war in every country to which the 
zeal of the Christian emissaries might carry the Gospel. 
Contenting themselves, therefore, with the enunciation 
of those principles which, where they are truly em- 
braced, are inconsistent with the permanent existence 
of slavery, and, if triumphant, insure its downfall, the 
_Apostles pursued that which was their great object ; 
and for those of an inferior order, patiently waited for 
the time when the seed they had sown broadcast in. 
the earth should yield its harvest. 

And surely the event has justified their sagacity. 
For to what, after all, have just notions on this most 
important subject been owing, except to this said 
Christianity? Though it is true that, owing to the 
imperfect exemplification of its principles by men who 


420 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


profess it, it has not yet done its work, it is doing it; 
though some Christian nations — more shame for them 
— have slaves, none but Christian nations are without 
them. Not only is the sincere admission of the max- 
ims and principles of the New Testament inconsistent 
with the permanent existence of slavery, but the history 
of Christianity affords perpetual illustrations of its ten- 
dency to destroy it. Even during the Dark Ages, even 
in its most corrupted form, Christianity wrought for 
the practical extinction of serfdom. Mr. Newman says 
that it was Christians, not men, that the Church sought 
to enfranchise; it little matters; she sought to abolish 
all villanage. He says that even Mahometans do not 
like to enslave Mahometans; I ask, can he find immense 
bodies of Mahometans who contend that it is contrary to 
the spirit, tendencies, and maxims, if not precise letter, 
of their religion, to enslave any body? For it was such 
a principle which expressly called forth the abhorrence 
and condemnation of slavery in our own age and na- 
tion. It cannot be denied that the movement by which 
this accursed system was, after so long a struggle, ex- 
terminated amongst us, was an eminently religious 
one, as regards its main supporters, the grounds they 
took, and the sacrifices they made. 

“ But Christian nations have defended and practised 
slavery!” you will say. 

They have; and Christian nations have often prac- 
tised the vices which the “ Book” expressly condemns, 
— just as all nations have practised many things which 
their codes of morals or laws condemn. The question 
is whether in the one case the Book, or in the other 
case the codes, approve them; not, I presume, whether 
man is a very inconsistent animal. But no system is 
made answerable for the violations of its spirit — except 
Christianity. 


DISCUSSION OF THREE QUESTIONS. 431 


Mr. Newman says that slaveholders 1 1ake the “ New 
Testament the stronghold of the accursed system.” It 
had been more to the purpose if he had pointed out 
a passage or two which recommend it. He knows that 
it is simply because it does not (for reasons already 
stated) denounce it, that they say it approves it. Are 
you satisfied with this reasoning? ‘Then try it on 
another case, — for despotism is exactly parallel. ‘The 
New Testament does not expressly denounce that, and 
for-the same reasons; and the arguments for passive 
obedience have been with equal plausibility drawn from 
its pages. Will the ‘Transatlantic republicans approve 
despotism on the same authority ?— Despotism has 
wrought at least as much misery to mankind as slavery, 
and probably much more. Was it a duty of the Apos- 
tles, instead of laying down principles which, though 
having another object, would infallibly undermine it, 
to denounce despotism everywhere, and invite all peo- 
ple to an insurrection against their rulers? If they had, 
the spiritual objects of the Gospel would have been 
easily understood, and very properly treated. Let me 
apply the argumentum ad hominem. Mr. Newman has 
favored the world with his views of religious truth, 
and the “ spiritual” weapons by which its “ champion” 
is to make it victorious over mankind; he has also re- 
corded his hatred of slavery and despotism, where such 
magnanimity is perfectly safe, and perfectly superfluous. 
Let me now suppose you, not only partly, but wholly 
of his mind, and animated (if “ spiritualism” will ever 
prompt men to do any thing, except, as Harrington 
says, to write books against book-revelation),—let me 
suppose you animated to go as missionary to the East 
to preach this spiritual system: would you, in addition 
to all the rest, publicly denounce the social and political 
evils under which the nations groan? If so, ycur spir- 

36 


422 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


itual projects would soon be perfectly understood, and 
summarily dealt with. 

It is im vain to say that, if commissioned by Heaven, 
and endowed with power of working miracles, you 
would do so ; for you cannot tell under what limitations 
your commission would be given; it is pretty certain 
that it would leave you to work a moral and spiritual 
system by moral and spiritual means, and not allow you 
to turn the world upside down, nor mendaciously tell it 
that you came only to “ preach peace,” while every syl- 
lable you uttered would be an incentive to sedition. 

Ill. The last point on which you ask a few remarks 
is in relation to the early spread of Christianity. Mr- 
Newman makes easy work of this great problem. He 
says, “ Before Constantine, Christians were but a smal/ 
fraction of the empire. .... In fact, it was the Chris- 
tian soldiers in Constantine’s army who conquered the 
empire for Christianity.” * 

In the first place, supposing the facts just as stated, — 
namely, that it was the Christian soldiers of Constan- 
tine who conquered the empire for Christianity, — who 
was it that conquered the army for Christianity?) When 
I find Mahometanism the prevalent religion through the 
English regiments, I shall shrewdly suspect that the 
conquest of England for Mahometanism will have been 
made an easy task, by its having already made equal 
progress amongst the people generally ! 

I suppose it will not be denied that the soldiers, by 
whose aid Constantine achieved this great victory, were 
themselves professedly converts to Christianity; and 
Christianity as it had existed in the times of the recent 
persecutions was not likely to allure men to the pro- 
fession of arms. I think, therefore, we may fairly 
assume, that, if the imperial armies were to any con- 


* Phases, p. 162. 


DISCUSSION OF THREE QUESTIONS. 423 


siderable extent — and it must have been ex hypothesi 
to a prevailing extent —- composed of Christians, Chris- 
tianity had made at least equal progress in the ranks of 
civil life. ‘The one may be taken as the measure of the 
other; though we might fairly suppose, both from the 
principles and habits of the Christians, that they wouid 
’ be found in civil life in a larger ratio. The camp was 
not precisely the place for them; the Gospel might find 
them there, it rarely sent them. So that the question 
returns, How came it to pass that the bulk of the armies 
which “ conquered the empire for Christianity ” came to 
be Christians, — at least in name and profession ? 
“Ah!” you will say, “in name,— but they were 
strange Christians who became soldiers.” Very true; 
and it makes my argument the stronger. Mere profes- 
sors of a religious system only follow in the wake of its 
triumphs. When those who do not care much for a 
system profess and embrace it, depend upon it, it has 
largely triumphed. To suppose, therefore, that Con- 
stantine conquered the empire for Christianity, while 
we admit that the army was already Christian, is very 
like getting rid of the objection in the way the Irishman 
proposed to get rid of some superfluous cart-loads of 
earth. “ Let us dig a hole,’ said he, “and put it in.” 
It is much the same here. : 
Constantine became a convert, perhaps from cunvic- 
tion, but certainly rather late. Supposing him a polit- 
ical convert, as many have done, it could only be be- 
cause he saw that Christianity had done its work to 
such an extent as to render it more probable that it 
would assist him than that he could assist if. This in- 
duced him to take it under the wing of his patronage. 
And on such a theory, what but such a conviction 
could have justified him in the attempt fora moment? . 
How could he be fool enough to add to the difficulties 


424 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


of his position —a candidate for empire — the stupen- 
dous difficulty »f forcing upon his unwilling or indiffer- 
ent subjects a religion which by supposition they were 
any thing but prepared to receive? If the prospects of 
Christianity had not already decided the question for 
him, so far from receiving credit for political sagacity, 
as he ever has done, he would deserve rather to be con- 
sidered an absolute idiot! 

Again; is it not plain from history in general, and 
must we not infer it from the nature of the case @ pri- 
ori, that Christianity must in some fashion have con- 
quered its millions before Constantine or any other 
man was likely to attempt to conquer the empire for 
Christianity, or to succeed in so doing if he had? Is 
there an instance on record of a people suddenly, at a 
moment’s notice, changing its religion, or rather — for 
this is the true representation — of many different na- 
tions changing their many different religions at the sim- 
ple command of their sovereign, and he too an upstart ? 
In two cases, and in only two, it may be done; first, by 
an unsparing use of the sword, the brief, simple alter- 
native of Mahomet, Death or the Koran; the other, 
when the new form of belief has converted the bulk or 
a large portion of the nation; of which, in this case, 
the conversion of the army is a tolerably significant in- 
dication. 

But again ; if it be said that the people, or rather the 
many different nations, abandoned their religions out of 
complaisance to their sovereign, | answer, Why do we 
not see the same thing repeated when Julian wished to 
reverse the experiment? ‘They were not so pliant then; 
then was it seen very clearly that the people were, as in 
every other case, unwilling, as regards their religion, to 
be mere puppets in the hands of their governors. He 
‘was animated by at least as strong a hatred of Chris- 


DISCUSSIUN OF THREE QUESTIONS. 425 


tianity as Constantine by a love of it. Yet we see all 
the way through, that there was not a chance of suc- 
cess for him. 

“But there were some persecutions,” you will say, 
“by Constantine.’ True, but they were so trifling 
compared with what would have been required had the 
conversion of an unbelieving and refractory empire de- 
pended on such means, that few who read the history 
of religious revolutions will believe that they were the 
cause of the change. Every thing shows that a vast 
preceding moral revolution in the empire is the only 
sufficient explanation of so sudden an event. Gibbon 
himself admits Constantine’s tolerant disposition. 

“ But,” it may be said, “the old heathenism was worn 
out and effete; no one thought it worth his while to 
stand up in its defence.” 

I answer, first, it seems to have been sufficiently 
loved, or at least Christianity was sufficiently hated, 
to insure frequent and sanguinary persecutions of the 
latter, almost up to the eve of Constantine’s accession. 
Secondly, you are to consider, that, though in the schools 
of philosophers, in the Epicurean or sceptical atmos- 
phere of the luxurious capital and other great cities, 
there was unquestionably a numerous party to whom 
the old superstition was a laughing-stock, there were 
vast multitudes to whom it was still, in its various forms, 
a thing of power. You are to recollect that the Roman 
empire was made up of many nations, each with a dif- 
ferent mode of religion, and to suppose that these differ- 
ent religions had ceased to exercise the usual influence ° 
on vast multitudes of the people would be mere delusion. 
If they were surrendered at last so easily, it could only 
be because a great party — antagonistic to each — had 
been silently forming in each nation, and undermining 


the power of the popular superstitions. But, thirdly, if 
36 * 


426 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


the representation were true, to what can so singular a 
phenomenon — this simultaneous decay of different re- 
ligions, this epidemic pestilence amongst the gods of 
the Pantheon —be ascribed, but to the previous influ- 
ence of Christianity, and its extensive conquests? And, 
fourthly, supposing this not the case, and yet that the 
indifference in question existed, this indifference to the 
old systems of religion would not presuppose equal in- 
difference to new, or induce the people to embrace them 
at the mere bidding of their new master. If this were 
so, we ought to see the same phenomenon repeated in 
the case of Julian. If, in their presumed indifference to 
the old and the new, they listened to Constantine when 
he commanded them to become Christians, why did 
not they manifest an equally compliant temper when 
the Apostate enjoined them to become heathens, and, 
like Constantine, gave them both precept and example? 

But look at the historic evidence on the subject long 
before the establishment of Christianity. Is it possible 
for any candid person to read the Epistle of Pliny to 
Trajan, and not see in that alone, after making every 
deduction for any supposed bias under which the let- 
ter may have been written (though, in fact, it is’ difh- 
cult to suppose any bias that would not rather lead the 
writer to diminish the number of the Christians than 
to exaggerate it),— is it possible, I say, to read that 
singular state paper, and not feel that the new religion 
had made prodigious progress in that remote province ? 
and that, @ fortiori, if in Bithynia it had conquered its 
thousands of proselytes, in other and more favored prov- 
inces it must have gained its tens of thousands? ‘To 
me the letter of Pliny speaks volumes; and if so much 
could be said at so early a period as A. D. 107, what 
was the state of things two centuries later ? 

Precisely the same conclusion must be arrived at if 


DISCUSSION OF THREE QUESTIONS. 427 


we consult the uniform tone of the Christian apologists, 
from Justin Martyr to Minucius Felix. Making here, 
again, what deductions you please for the fervid elo- 
quence and rhetorical exaggerations of such a man as 
Tertullian, it is too much to suppose even his “African ” 
impetuosity would have ventured, not merely on the 
virulent invective, the bold taunts, with which he every- 
where assails the popular superstitions, but on such 
strong assertions of the triumphant progress of the up- 
start religion, unless there had been obvious approxi- 
‘nation to truth in his statements. ‘‘ We were but of 
yesterday,” says he, “and we have filled your cities, 
islands, towns, and assemblies; the camp, the senate, 
the palace, and the forum swarm with converts to Chris- 
tianity.” Apologist for Christianity! Unless these 
words had been enforced by very much of truth, he 
would have made Christianity simply ridiculous; and 
Christians would have been necessitated to apologize 
for their mad apologist. 

The same conclusion equally follows from the con- 
sideration of those very corruptions of Christianity, 
which no candid student of ecclesiastical history will 
be slow to admit had already infected it, many years 
before Constantine ventured to aid it by his equivocal 
patronage. It was obviously its triumphant progress, — 
its attraction to itself of much wealth, — the accession. 
to a considerable extent, of fashion, rank, and power, — 
that chiefly caused those corruptions. So long as the 
Christian Church was poor and despised, such scenes 
as often attended the election of bishops in the great 
cities of the empire would be quite impossible. 

Under such circumstances the argument of Mr. New- 
man — judiciously compressed into a few sentences — 
appears to me even ludicrous. Bow different the course 
which Gibbon pursues! What a pity that the great 


428 TNE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


historian did not perceive that this statement would 
have led him equally well to his desired end; that so 
brief a demonstration would suffice to account for that 
unmanageable phenomenon, the rapid progress and ul- 
timate triumph of Christianity! He, on the contrary, 
seems to have read history with very different eyes; 
and yet I suppose no man will question either his 
learning or his sagacity. He finds himself obliged to 
admit the conspicuous advance which the Gospel had 
made before Constantine’s accession, and employs every 
nerve to invent sufficient natural causes to account for 
it. What a facile task would he have had of it, if he 
had but bethought him that Christianity, instead of 
having been to an enormous extent successful, was, in 
fact, waiting, in comparative failure, the triumphant 
aid of a military conqueror! He might then have dis- 
pensed with the celebrated chapter, and substituted for 
it the two pregnant sentences by which Mr. Newman 
has, in effect, declared it superfluous. 


August 7. ‘Three days ago (the evening before my 
return home) I managed to prevail upon myself to have 
a close and formal discussion with Harrington on the 
subject of his scepticism. We had a regular fight, 
which lasted till midnight, and beyond. A good deal 
of it was (in a double sense, perhaps) a vuxropayia, As 
[had no one to jot down short-hand notes of our con- 
troversy, — perhaps it is as well for me and for truth 
that there was none, — it is impossible that I should do 
more than give you a succinct summary of its course. 
But its principal topics are too indelibly impressed 
on my memory to leave me in doubt about general 
accuracy. 

I hardly know what led to it; I believe, however, it 


THE LAST EVENING. 429 


was an observation he made on the different fates of 
metaphysical and physical science, — the last all prog- 
ress, and the first perpetual uncertainty. He had been 
reading a remark of some philosopher who attributed 
this difference to the more substantial incentives offered 
to the cultivation of the physical sciences. “So that,” 
said he, “ they are, it seems, what our German friends 
would call ‘ Brodwissenschaften’! Not the brain, as 
some idly suppose, but the stomach, is the true organon 
of discovery, and if the metaphysician could but be 
punctually assured of his dinner (which has not always 
been the case), or at all events of a fortune, we should 
soon have the ¢rwe theories of the Sublime and Beauti- 
ful, —of Ethics, — of the Infinite, — of the Absolute, 
—of Mind and Matter,— of Liberty and Necessity ; 
whereas / think we should only have a multiplication 
of doubtful theories.” 

He remarked that he doubted the truth of the hy- 
pothesis in both its parts; that not the want of ade- 
quate motives, but the intrinsic difficulty of the subjects, 
had kept metaphysics back (on what subjects had men 
expended more gigantic toil?) ; nor, on the other hand, 
was it necessity that chiefly impelled man to cultivate 
physical science; it was the desire of knowledge, — or 
rather, he added, the love of truth; for what else was 
his admitted curiosity, in the last resort, unless man is 
equally curious about falsehood and truth; “that is,” 
said he, laughing, “as curious after ignorance as after 
knowledge! No,’ he continued, “the sciences are 
made arts for utilitarian purposes; but the sciences 
themselves have a very different origin. For my own 
part, I would as soon believe that Sir Isaac Newton ex- 
cogitated his system of the universe in hopes of being 
made one day Master of the Mint.” I assented, and, 
smiling, told him I was glad to find him admit that 


430 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


there was in man a love of knowledge, identical with 
the love of truth. He said he admitted the appetite, 
but denied that there was always an adequate sup- 
ply of food. He admitted that in physical science man 
seemed capable of unlimited progress; but it seemed 
doubtful whether this was the case in other directions. 
“ What was there inconsistent with scepticism in that?” 
he asked. 5 

I answered, that it was not for me to say at what 
point of the scale a man might become an orthodox 
doubter; but I was, at all events, glad that he had not 
gone all the lengths which some had gone, or professed 
to have gone; who, if they had not reached that climax 
of Pyrrhonism, to doubt even if they doubt, yet had 
declared the attainment of all truth impossible. I then 
bantered him a little on the advantages of “ absolute 
scepticism”; told him I wondered that he should throw 
them away; and reminded him of the success with 
which the sceptic might train on his adversary into the 
“bosky depths” of German metaphysics, — the theo- 
ries of Schelling, Fichte, Hegel. “ If truth be in any 
of those dusky labyrinths,” said I, “ you are not com- 
pelled to find her; the more unintelligible the discus- 
sion becomes, the better for the sceptic; you may not 
only doubt, but doubt whether you even understand 
your doubts. You may play ‘ hide and seek’ there for 
ten thousand years.” “ For all eternity,” was his reply. 
But he said he had no wish to seek any such covert, 
nor to play the sceptic. 

I told him I was glad to find that his scepticism did 
not —to use Burke’s expression on another subject — 
“ go down to the foundations.” He answered that he 
was afraid it did on all subjects really of any signifi- 
cance toman. “ As to the present life,” he continued, 
“T am quite willing to accept Bayle’s dictum: ‘ Les 


THE LAST EVENING. 431 


Sceptiques ne nioient pas qu’il ne se fallit conformer 
aux coutumes de son pays, et pratiquer des devoirs de 
la morale, et prendre parti en ces choses la sur des pro- 
babilités, sans attendre la certitude. ” 

I was not sorry that he took Bayle’s limits of scep- 
ticism rather than Hume’s: I told him so. 

Hume, he said, was evidently playing with scepti- 
cism ; for himself, he had no heart to jest upon the sub- 
ject. The Scotch sceptic acknowledged that the meta- 
physical riddles of his “ absolute scepticism ” exercised, 
and ought to exercise, no practical influence on himself 
or any man; that the moment he quitted them, and 
entered into society, “they appeared to him so frigid 
and unnatural” that he could not get himself to inter- 
est himself about them any further; that a dinner with 
a friend, or a game at backgammon, put them all to 
flight, and restored him to the undoubting belief of all 
the maxims which his meditative hours had stripped 
him of. It was natural, Harrington said; for such scep- 
ticism was impossible. He added, however, that, had 
Hume been honest, he would never have employed his 
subtilty in the one-sided way he did; “for,” said he, 
“if his principles be true, they tell just as much against 
those who deny any religious dogmas as against those 
who maintain them. Yet everywhere in relation to re- 
ligion —take the question of miracles, for example — 
he argues not as a sceptic at all, but as a dogmatist, 
only on the negative side. If his doctrine of ‘ Ideas’ 
and of ‘ Causation’ be true, he ought to have main- 
tained that, for any thing we know, miracles may have 
occurred a thousand times, and may as often occur 
again. Hume,” he said, “ was amusing himself; but 1 
am not: nor can any one really feel — many pretend 
to do so without feeling at all—the pressure of such 
doubts as envelop me, and be content to amuse them- 
selves with them.” 


432 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


I found it very difficult to attack him in the intrench- 
ments he had thrown up. I thought I would just try 
fora moment to act on the Spiritualist’s advice, and, 
throwing aside all “intellectual and logical processes,” 
all appeals to the “ critical faculties,’ advance “lightly 
equipped as Priestley himself,’ making my appeal to 
the “spiritual faculty.” I cannot say that the result 
was at all what “ spiritualism” promises. On the con- 
trary, Harrington parried all such appeals in a twink- 
ling. He said he did not admit that he had any 
“spiritual faculty ” which acted in isolation from the 
intellect; that religious faith must be founded on re- 
ligious truth, and even quasi-religious faith on quasi- 
religious truth. ‘That the intellect and the moral and 
spiritual faculties (if he had any) acted together, since 
he felt that he was indivisible, and that the former must 
be satisfied as well as the latter ; that it was so with all 
his faculties, none of which acted in isolation; that 
however hunger might prompt to food, he never took 
what his senses of sight and touch told him was sand 
or gravel; that if he indulged love, or pity, or anger, it 
was only as the senses and the imagination and the 
understanding were busied with objects adequate to 
elicit them ; that if beautiful poetry excited emotion, it 
was only as he understood the meaning and connection 
of the words. “ And what else are you doing now, while 
urging me to ‘realize by direct ‘insight, by ‘ gazing’ 
on ‘spiritual truth, and so forth, the things you wish 
me to realize, — I say what are you doing but appeal- 
ing to me, through these same media of the senses and 
the imagination, by rhetoric and logic? How else can 
you gain any access to my supposed ‘spiritual fac- 
ulties’?” JI replied, that even the spiritualist did 
that,— he endeavored to convince men, I supposed. 
“ Yes,” he replied, laughing, “ because he is privileged 


THE LAST EVENING. 433 


doubly to abuse logic at one and the same time; to 
abuse it in one sense as a fallacious instrument of 
religious conviction in the hands of others, and to 
abuse it in another sense, as an instrument of fal- 
lacious conviction in his own. But you are not so 
privileged. ” 

Harrington insisted on the fact, that the whole thing 
was a delusion; I might appeal, he said, if I thought 
proper, to any faculties, or rudiments of faculties, he 
possessed, spiritual or otherwise; but he really could 
not pretend even to comprehend one syllable I said, if I 
denied him the use of his understanding. I might as 
well, and for the same reasons, appeal to him without 
the intervention of his senses, — for his “soul” could 
not be more different from his “intellect” than from 
them. “ Besides,’ he continued, “I know you do not 
imagine that any spiritual faculty acts thus indepen- 
dently of the intellect; and therefore you are only 
mocking me.” 

I thought it best to cut my cable and leave this un- 
safe anchorage. 

I told him that, as he doubted whether man had any 
distinctly marked religious and spiritual faculties, while 
I affirmed that he had, — although he was quite right 
in supposing that I did not believe that they acted ex- 
cept in close conjunction with the intellect, — it made 
it difficult to hold any discourse with him. Doubting 
the Bible, he had also learned to doubt that doctrine of 
human depravity, which he once thought harmonized 
—and I still thought did alone harmonize — the great 
facts of man’s essentially religious constitution and his 
eternally varied and most egregiously corrupt religious 
development. 

However, I told him that, even in the concession of 


the probable as a sufficient rule of conduct in this life, 
37 


434 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


he had granted enough to condemn utterly his sceptical 
position. 

He now looked sincerely interested. “ Let me,” said 
I, “ask you a few questions.” He glanced towards me 
an arch look. “What!” he said, “ you wish to get the 
Socratic weather-gage of me, do you? You forget, 
my dear uncle, that you introduced me to the Platonic 
dialectics.” 

“ Heaven forgive you,” said I, “for the thought. 
You know I make little pretension to your favorite 
erotetic method: and if I did, oh! do you not know, 
Harrington, my son, that, if I could but convince you 
on this one subject, I would consent to be confuted by 
you on every other every day in the year ?—nay, to 
be trampled under your feet?” I added, with a falter- 
ing voice. “ And, besides that, do you not know that 
there can be no rivalry between father and son; that 


it is the only human affection which forbids it; that - 


pride, and not envy, swells a father’s heart, when he 
finds himself outdone ?” 

He was not unmoved; told me he knew that I loved 
him well, and desired me to ask any questions I pleased. 

He saw how gratified his affection made me feel. I 
said, gayly, “ Well, then, let me ask (as our old friend 
with the queer face might have said), Do you not grant 
there is such a thing as prudence?” 

“ T do,” he said. 

“ But to be prudent is, I think, to do that which is 
most likely to promote our happiness.” 

“ That which seems most likely, for I do not admit 
that we know what will.” 

“That which seems, then, for it is of no consequence.” 

“Of no consequence! surely there is a little differ- 
ence between being and seeming to be.” 

“ All the difference in the world,” I replied, “but not 


a at pes 


THE LAST EVENING. 435 


in relation to our choice of conduct. We choose, if 
prudent, that conduct which, on the whole, deliberately 
seems most likely to promote our happiness, and, as far 
as that goes, what seems is.” 

“T grant it; and that probabilities are the measure of 
it,” said Harrington. 

“ You are of Bayle’s opinion, that there is in relation 
to the present life a probable prudent, and that it would 
be gross folly to neglect it ?” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ And in proportion as the interest was greater, and 
extended overa longer time, you would be content with 
less and less probabilities to justify action?” 

“J freely grant I should.” 

“If now a servant came into the room to say that he 
feared your farm-house at King’s O was on fire, 
though you might think it but faintly probable, you 
would not think it prudent to neglect the informa- 
tion ?” 

“ T certainly should not.” 

“ And if you were immortal here on earth, and the 
neglect of some probably, or (we will say) only possi- 
bly, true information in relation to some vital interest 
might affect it through that whole immortality, you 
would consider it prudent to act on almost no prob- 
ability at all, on the very faintest presumption of the 
truth ?” 

“ J must in honesty agree with you so far.” 

“ What does your scepticism promise you, if it be 
well founded? Much happiness?” 

“'To me none; rather the contrary; and to none, I 
think, can it promise much.” 

“ And if Christianity be true,— for I speak only of 
that, — I know there is not in your estimate any other 
religion that comes into competition with it, — immor- 
tal felicity, immortal misery, depends on it ?” 


436 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


“ Yes; it cannot be denied.” 

“You admit that scepticism may be false, even 
though it has a thousand to one in its favor; for by 
its very principles you know nothing, and can know 
nothing, on the subjects to which its doubts extend?” 

“ | acknowledge it.” 

“ And Christianity may be true by the very same 
reasoning, though the chances be only as one to a 
thousand ?” 

“It is so.” 

“Then by your own confession you are not prudent, 
for you do not act in relation to Christianity on the 
principles on which you say you act in the affairs of 
the present life; where you acknowledge that the least 
presumption will move you, when the interests are sufhi- 
ciently permanent and great.” 

He told me, with a smile, I might have arrived at 
the same conclusion without any argument; for he was 
willing to acknowledge in general that he was not pru- 
dent, and in relation to this very subject should always 
admit, with Byron, that the sincere Christian had an 
undeniable advantage over both the infidel and the 
sceptic; “since,” he added, putting the admission into a 
very concise form, “ their best is his worst.” 

“ Very well,” said I, “ Harrington, only remember 
that your imprudence is none the less for your admis- 
sion of it.” 

“ None in the world,” he admitted ; but he contended 
there was a flaw in the argument; for that it was im- 
possible to accept any religion on merely prudential 
grounds. And he then went on, in his curious way, 
to lament that an unreasonable candor prevented him 
fr>m here taking advantage of an ingenious argument 
adopted by some of the modern “ spiritualists” in rea- 
soning on the probabilities of a “future life.” They 


¥ 


THE LAST EVENING. 437 


contend that it is necessary to insulate the soul (if it 
would discover “spiritual truth”) from all bias of self- 
interest, — from all oblique glances at prospective ad- 
vantage; in fact, that only he is fully equipped for dis- 
covering “spiritual truth” who is disinterestedly indif- 
ferent as to whether it be discovered or not. Harring- 
ton said he could not pretend that even the sceptic was 
so favorably circumstanced as that. “ For my part,” 
he said, “ I cannot honestly adopt this view, and always 
think it prudent to accept as large an armful of happi- 
ness as I can grasp, when trnth and duty do not come 
in the way.” | 

‘“ And in the name of common sense,” I said, “ what 
truth and duty are to stand in your way? Is not your’ 
truth, that there is none?” 

“ Yes,” he replied, smiling; “but is not the truth the 
truth, as Falstaff said? though to be sure it was when 
he was manufacturing his eleven men in buckram out 
of two. However, as Mr. Newman, when some one 
foretold that he would be some day a Socinian or an 
infidel, replied, ‘ Well, if Socinianism or any thing else 
be the truth, Socinians or any thing else let us be’; so 


I must say, if no truth be the truth, no-truth men let 


us be.” 

“ Very well,” replied. “ Then, it seems, truth stands 
in the way of acting prudently ; and, instead of remedy- 
ing our first paradox, we have started on another, that 
truth and prudence are here opposed: for in no other 
cases (I think) in which you apply your own rule of 
the probable to the present life will a mind of your com- 
prehensiveness say they are opposed; I am sure you 
will admit the general maxims, that to lie is inexpe- 
dient, and that honesty is the best policy, and so on.” 
He granted it. 


“ But further,” said I, “what sort of truth is this, 
37 * 


438 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


which involves duty, and yet is opposed to prudence? 
It is, that there is no truth, it seems, and this completes 
the paradox. This strange truth—the Alpha and 
Omega of the sceptic, his first and his last —is to in- 
volve duty; he is to be a confessor and martyr for it! 
Nothing less than happiness and prudence are to be 
sacrificed to conscience in the matter. Truly, if the 
truth that there is xo truth involves any duty, it ought 
to be the duty of believing that there is no duty to be 
performed; and you might as well call yourself a no- 
duly man as a no-truth man.” 

He smiled, but replied, that, seriously, it was impossi- 
ble to adopt any religious opinions, or to change them, 
at the bidding of the will. 

I admitted, of course, that the will had no direct 
power in the matter; but reminded him that, if he 
meant it had no influence, or even a little, on the forma- 
tion or retention of opinions, no one could be a more 
strenuous assertor of the contrary than he had often 
been. I reminded him it was so notorious that man 
usually managed to believe as he wished, that there 
was no one maxim more frequently on the lips of the 
greatest philosophers, orators, and poets. But I added 
that there is also a legitimate way of influencing the 
will, and that is through the understanding; and that it 
was with the hope of inducing him to reconsider the 
paradoxes of scepticism, and not with any expectation 
of instant or violent change, that I was anxious to enu- 
merate them on the present occasion. 

It is impossible for me to recollect exaetly the course 
of the long conversation that ensued; suffice it to say, 
that he willingly granted many other paradoxes, some 
of them so readily, as to confirm the suspicion I had 
sometimes felt, that he must often have doubted the 
validity of his doubts. He admitted, for example, that 


THE LAST EVENING. 439 


since men in general (whether from the possession of a 
distinct religious faculty, though it might be corrupt 
and depraved, or a mere rudimentary tendency to relig- 
ion) had adopted some religion, religious scepticism, in 
an intelligible sense, was opposed to nature ;—that it 
was equally opposed to nature, inasmuch as the general 
constitution of man sought and loved certainty, or sup- 
posed certainty, and found a state of perpetual doubt 
intolerable ; and that if this be attributed to a tendency 
to dogmatism, that is the very tendency of nature which 
is affirmed ;— that it is opposed to nature again in this 
way, that whereas restlessness and agitation of mind 
are usually, at all events, warnings to seek relief, scepti- 
cism produces these as its pure and proper result ;— 
that since, by the confession of every mind worthy of 
~ respect, the great doctrines of religion, if not true, are 
such that we cannot but wish they were; since, by his 
own confession, scepticism has nothing to allure in it, 
and rather causes misery than happiness; and since, by 
his confession and that of every one else, men in gen- 
eral easily believe as they wish, it is an unaccountable 
paradox, that any one should remain a sceptic for a day, 
except, indeed, from a guilty fear of the truth ;— that, 
since scepticism tends to misery, it is better not to know 
its truth, and that therefore ignorance is better than 
knowledge ; — that, if Christianity be an illusion, it, at 
all events, tends to make men happier than the truth of 
scepticism, and that therefore error is better than truth ; 
— that religious scepticism,is open to the same objec- 
tion as scepticism absolute; for whereas the last is 
taunted with trusting to reason to prove that reason can 
in nothing be trusted, religious scepticism is chargeable 
with declaring the certainty of all uncertainty, and, while 
proclaiming that there is nothing true, avowing that 
that 7s the truth and lastly, that if, in consistency, it 


440 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


leaves even that uncertainty uncertain, it arrives at a 
conclusion which everlastingly remits us to renewed 
investigation ! | 

“ But,” said he, “ the sceptic does affirm the certainty 
of all uncertainty. That is precisely my state of mind, 
even in relation to Christianity. Both its truth and 
falsehood are — uncertain.” 

“Then,” said J, “I must not say you reject Chris- 
tianity, but only that you do not receive it.” 

“ Precisely so,” said he, with a smile and a blush at 
the same time. I was much amused with this logical 
ceremoniousness, by which a man is not to say that he 
rejects any thing so conditioned, but only that he does 
not receive it.- I told him I imagined they came to 
much the same thing. 

“Jt is impossible,” said he, after a pause, “ to affirm 
any thing on these subjects.” 

“It is equally impossible,” said I, “to affirm nothing; 
on the contrary, you sceptics have two conclusions, 
though in a negative form, for every body else’s one, — 
together with the pleasant addition, that they are con- 
traries to one another; and as Pascal said that the 
man who attempted to be neuter between the sceptic 
and dogmatist was a sceptic par excellence, so the gen- 
uine sceptic may be called a dogmatist par excellence.” 

“For my part,” said he, smiling sadly, “I hardly 
think it is very, difficult either to believe nothing or 
every thing. Fellowes, you see, has believed every 
thing, and now he is in a fair way to believe nothing, 
However, all I mean is, that the evidence on these 
subjects reduces one to a state of complete mental sus- 
pense, in which it is equally unreasonable to say that 
we believe, as to say that we believe not. However, 
I grant you most of the paradoxes you mention; but a 
sceptic is not to be startled by paradoxes, I trow; and 
alas! they prove nothing.” 


—— a 


y4< wil 


THE LAST EVENING. 44] 


“Prove nothing! nay, I think you do your system 
injustice ; I think it is entitled to the distinction of 
making great discoveries. You confess that the only 
truth on these subjects is, that there is no truth; that 
to act on this truth necessitates a conduct opposed to 
nature, to prudence, to happiness; that it is a knowl- 
edge worse than ignorance; that it is a truth that is 
worse than error; that it never did, will, or can be em- 
braced by many, and that it makes the few who em- 
brace it miserable; you admit further, with me, that 
men generally believe as they wish. Why, then, do you 
not fly from so hideous a monster, on the very ground 
(only in this case it is stronger) on which you doubt 
all religious systems, — that is, on account of the sup- 
posed paradoxes they involve? It may be but a little 
argument with you, who seem to demand demonstra- 
tion of religious truth ; but for myself, I feel that, what- 
ever be the truth, such a chimera as scepticism, bris- 
tling all over with paradoxes, must be —a lie.” 

“ Well,” he replied, “but then which religion is the 
true??? 

“ Nay,” I said, “that is an after consideration; if 
you can but be brought to believe that any is true, I 
know you will believe but one.” 

“ You touched just now,” he replied, “on the very 
difficulty. I shall believe as soon as any one gives me 
what you truly say I ask, — demonstration of the truth 
of some one of the thousand and one religious systems 
which men have believed.” 

“ And that demonstration,” said I, “ you cannot have ; 
for God has not granted demonstration to man on that 
or any other subject in which duty is involved.” 

“ But why might I not have had it? and should I 
not have had it, if it kad been incumbent on me to be- 
lieve it ?” 


442 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


We had now come to the very knot of the whole 
argument. 

“ Incumbent on you to believe! I suppose you mean, 
if there had been any system which you could not but 
believe; which you must believe whether you would or 
not. No doubt, in that case, the requisite evidence 
would have been such that scepticism would have been 
impossible; that word ‘incumbent’ implies duty; and 
that word duty is the key to the whole mystery, for it 
implies the possibility of resisting its claims. We do 
not speak of its being incumbent on a man to run out 
of a burning house, or to swim, if he can, when thrown 
into deep water. He cannot help it. If there be a 
Supreme Ruler of the universe, and if the posture of 
his intelligent creatures be that of submissive obedience 
to him, it is inconceivable that a man can ever have 
experience of his being willing to perform that duty 
with the sort of demonstration which you demand; and, 
for aught we know, it may be impossible, constituted 
as we are, that we should ever be actually trained to 
that duty, except in the midst of very much less than 
_ certainty. Now, if this be so, — and I defy you or any 
man to prove that it may not be so, — then we are ask- 
ing a simple impossibility when we ask that we may 
be freed from these conditions; for it is asking that we 
may perform our duty, under circumstances which shall 
render all duty impossible.” I pursued this subject at 
some length, and reminded him that the supposed law 
of our religious condition was throughout in analogy 
with that of the entire condition of our present life, 
and in conformity with his own rule of the probable; 
that it is probable evidence only that is given to man 
in either case, and “ probable evidence,” as Bishop But- 
ler says, “often of even wretchedly insufficient charac- 
ter.” Nature, or rather God himself, everywhere cries 


es 


THE LAST EVENING. 443 


aloud to us, “O mortals! certainty, demonstration, 
infallibility, are not for you, and shall not be given to 
you; for there must be'a sphere for faith, Hope, sin- 
cerity, diligence, patience.’ And as if to prove to us, 
not only that this evidence is what we must trust to, 
but that we safely may, He impels us by strong ne- 
cessities of our lower nature operating on the higher 
(which would otherwise, perhaps, plead for the sceptic’s 
inaction in relation to this as well as to another world) 
to play our part; if we stand shivering on the brink of 
action, necessity plunges us headlong in; if we fear to 
hoist the sail, the strength of the current of life snaps 
our moorings, and compels us to drive. I reminded 
him, that the general result also shows that, as man 
must, so he may, can, will, shall, (and so through all the 
moods and tenses of contingency,) do well; that faith 
in that same sort of evidence which the sceptic rejects 
when urged in behalf of religion, prompts the farmer 
to cast in his seed, though he can command no blink 
of sunshine, nor a drop of rain; the merchant to com- 
mit his treasures to the deep, though they may all go 
to the bottom, and sometimes do; the physician to 
essay the cure of his patient, though often half in doubt 
whether his remedy will kill or save. “It is,” said I, 
“in that same faith that we build, and plant, and lay 
our little plans each day ; sometimes coming to noth- 
ing, but generally, and according to the fidelity and 
manliness with which we have conducted ourselves, 
securing more than a return for the moral capital em- 
barked ; and even where this is not the case, issuing, 
when there have been the qualities which would natu- 
rally secure success, a vigor and robustness of charac- 
ter, which, like the rude health glowing in the weather- 
beaten mariner, who has buffeted with wind and wave, 
are a more precious recompense than success itself. In 
these examples God says to us in effect, ‘On such 


444 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


evidence you must and shall act, and shows us that we 
safely may. Without promising us absolute success in 
all our plans, or absolute truth in the investigation of 
evidence, he says, in either case, ‘Do your best; be 
faithful to the light you have, diligent and conscientious 
in your investigations of available evidence, great or 
little, — act fearlessly on what appears the truth, and 
leave the rest to me,” 

Harrington here asked the question I expected: — 
.“ But suppose different men coming (as they do) on 
religious subjects to different conclusions, after the dili- 
gence and fidelity of which you speak, what then?” 

“Then, if the fidelity and diligence have been abso- 
lute, —if all has been done which, under the circum- 
stances, could be done, — I doubt not they are blameless. 
But I fear there are very few who can absolutely say 
this; and for those who cannot say it at all, their guilt 
is proportionate to the demands which the momentous 
nature of the subject made on diligence and fidelity.” 

“J suppose,” said he, with some hesitation, “ you 
will not allow that J have exercised this impartial 
search ; and yet, supposing that I have, will you not 
hold me blameless on the very. principles now laid 
down?” 

It was a painful question; but I was resolved I 
would have-nothing to reproach myself with ; and there- 
fore answered steadily, that it was not for me to judge 
the degree of blame which attached to his present state 
of mind, which I trusted was only transient; that the 
argument from sincerity was itself only one of the 
probable things of which we had been speaking; that, 
so subtle are the operations of the human mind, so 
mysterious the play of the passions and affections, 
the reason and conscience, so intimate the connection 
amongst all our powers and faculties, that it is one of 
the most difficult things to be able to say, with truth, 


THE LAST EVENING. 445 


that we are perfectly sincere; that I did not see any 
difficulty in believing that there is many a man who, 
without hesitation and without any conscious hypocrisy, 
would avow his sincerity, who, upon being suffered to 
look into his own mind through a moral solar micro- 
scope, would see there all sorts of misshapen monsters, 
and tur away from the spectacle with disgust and 
horror; that such a microscope (to speak in figure) might 
one day be applied by that Power to whom only the 
human heart is fully known. I added, however, that, if 
I knew more of his mental history for some years past, 
(into which my affection should never induce me im- 
pertinently to pry,) I might, perhaps, in some measure, 
account for nis scepticism; that I could even conceive 
cases of minds so encompassed with infirmity,” or so 
dependent on stat « of health, as to render such a state 
involuntary, ap therefore to take them out of the 
sphere of our argument. But, apart from some such 
causes, I plainly told him I could not permit myself to 
believe that religious scepticism could be free from heavy 
blame, if only on the ground that such as feel it do not 
act consistently with its maxims in other cases, where 
the evidence is of the same dubious nature, or rather is 
much more dubious. The parallel case would be, (if we 
could find it,) of a man whose interest urgently required 
him +>» act one way or the other, and who, instead of 
acting accordingly, sat down in absolute inaction, on 
the score that he did not know what course to pursue. 
That indecision would be always blamable. “ Ah!” 
said I, “those cool heads and skilful hands which pilot 
the little bark of their worldly fortunes amidst such dan- 
gerous rocks and breakers, under such dark and stormy 
skies, what can they say, if asked why they gave up all 
thought of religion on the score of doubt, when its 


hopes are at least as high as those of the schemes of 
38 


446 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


earthly success, and its claims at least as strong as those 
of present duty? What will they be able to say? 

“QO Harrington!” I continued, in some such words 
as these, “ supposing the draught of our present condi- 
tion not to be such as I have sketched; that the scep- 
tical view of the gloom in which we are placed is the 
true one, and that the Christian’s is false; which, nev- 
ertheless, is likely to be not merely the happier, but the 
nobler being, —he who sits down in querulous repin- 
ing or slothful inactivity, as the result of doubt, or 
he who, buoyant with faith and hope, encounters the 
gloom, and, while longing for the dawn, is confident 
that it will come? But if that sketch be a true one, — 
if the trial of which I have spoken be necessary for you 
and for all, to develop and discipline those qualities 
which alone will elicit and mature an Immortal Virtue, 
- and secure to us at last the privilege of indefectible 
‘children of God, — then with what feelings will you 
hear the Great Master say, ‘In every other case but 
this, you acted on the principles and maxims by which 
I taught you (not obscurely) that I summoned you to 
act in this case also: doubts and difficulties were ne- 
cessary to you as to all, and I exacted of you no more 
than were necessary ultimately to secure for you an 
eternal exemption from them. But because you could 
not have that certainty which the very necessity of 
the case excluded, you declined the trial, and have ac- 
counted yourself unworthy of eternal life!’ Ah! how 
different if you could hear him say, ‘ It was indeed ‘a 
temptation ; amidst numberless blessings denied to oth. 
ers, I yet gave you, too, your trial ;— the questionable 
talent of an inquisitive intellect, and leisure to use or 
abuse it. ‘Tempted to absolute doubt, you would not 
succumb to it; you would not be so inconsistent here 
as to relinquish those maxims on which I compelled 
you to act in every other case in life, nor deny to mg 


’ 


=|. = 


8 TS ee nag 


THE LAST EVENING. 447 


the confidence which you granted to every common 
friend! Warned by the very misery which was sent 
to caution you that in that direction lay death, you 
struggled against the incursions of your subtle foes, and 
you overcame. Welcome, child of clay! welcome to 
that world in which there is no more nieut!?” 

We had been talking on till long past midnight; 
and the lamp suddenly warned us that its light was 
just expiring. Harrington took off the shade, and was 
about to light a candle by the dying flame, when it 
went out. “Itmatters not,” he said, “ Ihave the means 
of kindling a light close at hand.” .“ Let it alone,” said 
I, rising, and gently laying my hand on his arm, and 
speaking in a low voice, but with much earnestness ; 
“this darkness is an emblem of our present life. You 
cannot see me, but you hear my voice and feel the 
touch of my hand. For any thing you know, I may be 
seized with a sudden fit of insanity. I may be about 
to stab you in this darkness; such things have been. 
You have lost, with the light, more than half the indi- 
cations of affection which that would disclose. But 
you trust to the probable; your pulse does not beat 
any the quicker, nor do your nerves tremble. You may 
have similar, nay, how much stronger proofs (if you 
will) of the confidence with which you may trust God, 
and Him, the compassionate One, “ whom he hath 
sent,” in spite of all the gloom in which this life is in- 
_volved. ‘That certainty for which you have just now 
asked will only be granted when the darkness is passed 
away; and then you will ‘rejoice in the light of his 
countenance.’ And, further,” I continued, “there is yet 
one thing which I wish to say to you; and I feel as if 
I could say it better in this darkness; for I will not 
venture to say that I should not manifest more feeling 
than is consistent in a hard-hearted metaphysician. 
Yes! it is on the side of feeling that I would also ad- 


448 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH=> 


dress you. You will say, feeling is not argument? No; 
but is man all reason? I firmly believe, indeed, that 
man is not called upon to do any thing for which his 
reason does not tell him that he has sufficient evidence ; 
but a part of that very evidence is often the dictate of 
feeling ; and genuine reason will listen to the heart, as 
not always, nor perhaps more frequently than other- 
wise, a suspicious pleader. If, as Pascal says so truly, 
it sometimes has its reasons which the reason cannot 
comprehend, it has also its reasons which the reason 
thoroughly understands. 

“ You were early an orphan; you do not remember 
your mother; but I do; ah, how well! I saw her the 
last time she ever saw you. You were brought to her 
bedside when she was in the full possession of all her 
faculties, and deeply conscious that she had not many 
hours to live. She looked at you as you were held in 
your nurse’s arms, smiling upon her with to me an 
agonizing unconsciousness of your approaching orphan- 
age. She gazed upon you with that intense look of 
inexpressible affection which only maternal love, sharp- 
ened by death, can give ; she looked long and earnestly, 
but spoke not one syllable. As you were at length 
taken from the room, she followed you with her eyes 
till the door closed, and then it seemed as if the light 
of this world had been quenched in them for ever. 
‘I charge you,’ she said at length, ‘let me see him 
again.’ I made a motion as if to recall the attendant. 
‘Not here,’ she added, laying her hand gently on my 
arm, and I understood her but too well. You know 
whether I have in any degree fulfilled my trust. But 
is it possible that I can think of an utter failure, and 
not be more than troubled? And if Christianity be 
true, and if J am so happy as to obtain admission to 
that ‘blessed country into which an enemy never en- 
tered. and from which a friend never went away,’ and 


THE LAST EVENING. 449 


she whom I loved so wellshould ask me why you come 
not,— that she had tarried for you long,—must I 
say that you will never come? that her child had wan- 
dered from the fold of the Good Shepherd, and had 
gone I knew not whither? that I sought him in the 
lonely glens and mountains, but found him not? I 
hardly know, but I almost think — such was the love - 
she had for you—that such reply would shade that 
‘radiant face even amidst the glories of Paradise. And 
now — let all this be a dream — suppose that not sim- 
ply by your own fault you will never see that mother 
more, but that from the sad truth of your no truth —- 
you never can; that the ‘ Vale, vale, in eternum, vale, is 
all that you can say to her: yet I say this, —that to 
live only in the hope of the possibility of fulfilling the 
better wishes of such a friend, and rejoining her for ever 
in (if you will) the fabulous ‘islands of the blest, 
would not only make you a happier, but even a nobler, 
being than your present mood can ever make you. 
My rasutovus is better than your TRUE.” 

I felt that he was not unmoved. Iwas myself muved 
too much to allow me to stay any longer, and saying 
that I could find my way very well to my chamber in 
the dark, where I had the means of kindling a light, I 
softly closed the door and left him. 

* * * * * 

As I was to leave very early in the morning, I had 
told Harrington that I should depart for the neighbor- 
ing town (whither his servant was to drive me) with- 
out disturbing him. But I could not tear myself away, 
after the singular close of our interview on the last even- 
ing, without a more express farewell. I tapped at his 
chamber door, but, receiving no reply, gently entered. 
He was resting in unquiet slumber. A table, lamp, and 
books, by his bedside, bore witness to his perseverance in 


450 THE ECLIPSE OF FAITH. 


that pernicious habit which he had early formed! I gen- 
tly drew back one of the curtains, and let in the light of 
the summer morning on his pallid, but most speaking 
features, and gazed on them with a sad and foreboding 
feeling. I recalled those days when I used nightly to 
visit the slumbers of the little orphan, and trace in his 
features the image of his mother. He was not aroused 
by my entrance; most likely he had sunk to slumber 
at alate hour. Presently he began to talk in his sleep, 
which was almost a constant habit in his younger days, 
and which I used to consider one of the symptoms of 
that intense cerebral activity by which he was distin- 
guished. On the present occasion I thought I could 
interpret the fitful and fleeting images which were 
chasing each other by the laws of association through 
his mind. “ But how shall I know that these things, 
which I call real, are different from the phenomena of 
sleep which I call real?” Alas! thought I, the ruling 
passion is strong in sleep, as in waking moments! How 
I dread lest it should be strong “in death” itself, of 
which this sleep is the image! After a pause, an ex- 
pression of deepest sadness crept over the features, and 
he murmured, with a slight alteration, two lines from 
Coleridge’s translation of that glorious scene in which 
Wallenstein looks forth into the windy night in search 
of his “ star,’ and thinks of that brighter light of his 
life which had been just extinguished. Harrington 
used to say, that he preferred the translation of that 
scene even to the magnificent original itself. These 
lines, (now a little varied,) I had often heard him quote 
with delight: — 


“ Methinks 
If I but saw her, ’t would be well with me; 
She was the star of my nativity.” 


Was he, by the magic of dream-land, transported back 


CONCLUSION. 451 


to childhood? Was he as an orphan child thinking of 
his mother, the image of whose dying hours I had so 
recently called up before him? Or was it the recollec- 
tion of a still brighter and more recently extinguished 
“star,” which thus troubled his wandering fancy? — 
There was another pause, and again the fitful breeze of 
association awakened the sad and plaintive melody of 
the Kolian lyre ; but I could not distinguish the words. 

Presently the scene again changed; and he suddenly 
said, “ Beautiful shadow! if thou art.a shadow, — thou 
hast said, Come to me all ye that are weary, — and 
surely if ever man was weary To whom can I 
go ” Tt was with intense feeling that I watched 
for something more; but to my disappointment, (I may 
almost call it anguish,) he continued silent. I could 
not find it in my heart to rouse him, and, softly leaving 
the chamber, departed for home. 


* * * * * 


October 31. 'The young Sceptic has since gone 
where doubts are solved for ever; but I am not with- 
out hope, that in his last hours he was able to finish 
the sentence which his dream left incomplete. “ 'T’o 
whom can I go, but unto Thee?) Tuou oniy Hast 
THE WORDS OF ETERNAL LIFE.’ Fér me, I have noth- 
ing more to live for here. In a few weeks I gladly 
go to join my brother in his distant exile ;— and for 
Thee, my Country, “Peace be within thy dwellings, 
and prosperity within thy palaces!” And that it may 
be so, may that Christianity, which, all imperfectly as 
it has been exemplified, has yet been thy Palladium 
and thy Glory, be ever and increasingly dear to thee! 

* * * * * 

December 27. I have resolved that the fragments 
which originally constituted this journal shall not be 
destroyed. I have employed the interval since the last 
date in adapting and disguising them for publication. 


452 THE. ECLIPSE: OF FAITH. 


_ How far an embroidery of fiction has been necessary in 
attaining this object, is a matter of no consequence to 
any one; since the book aspires to none of the appro- 
priate attractions of either a novel or a history. No 
doubt a much stronger interest, of a certain kind, might 
have been secured by a free employment of fictitious 
embellishment, or even by a more liberal indulgence in 
biographical details. But I have been content, for a 
special object, to do what some tell us is to be done 
with the Bible, —to separate, from the mass of inci- 
dent which might have varied or adorned the narrative, 
the exclusively “ Religious Element.” If the discus- 
sions in the preceding pages shall in any instance con- 
vince the youthful reader of the precarious nature of 
those modern book-revelations which are somewhat in- 
consistently given us in books which tell us that all 
book-revelations of religious truth are superfluous or 
even impossible ; if they shall convince him how easily 
an impartial doubter can retort with interest the deisti- 
eal arguments against Christianity, or how little merely 
insoluble objections can avail against any thing ; if they 
shall convince him that the differences with which the 
assailants of the Bible taunt its advocates are neither 
so numerous nor half so appalling as those which divide 
its enemies ; or, lastly, if they shall, par avance, in any 
degree protect those who, like Harrington D , are 
being made, or are in danger of being made, sceptical as 
to all religious truth, by the religious distractions of the 
present day, —I shall be well content to bear the charge 
of having spoiled a Fiction, or even of having mutilated 
a Biography. 


F. B. 


THE END. 


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